


Threats of Romance

by WTFIsSheOn



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Claiming Bites, Comfort Sex, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Outdoor Sex, Porn With Plot, Predicament Bondage, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Sleepy Sex, Smut, Submissive Dennis, Switch Dennis, Temperature Play, Tickling, hot for teacher, kink prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTFIsSheOn/pseuds/WTFIsSheOn
Summary: Various Split one shots and "Plot, what plot?" that doesn't fit into my main series, if only because I would never move the story along if all I wrote was smut and drabble. A lot of stories are going to be centered aroundthis promptlist. Not going to touch all of them, but I've got my eye on at least a few.If you've got a request, don't be afraid to ask! Only things I don't do are non-con/underage.Tags updated as needed
Relationships: Barry/Casey Cooke, Casey Cooke/Dennis, Casey Cooke/Orwell, Casey Cooke/Samuel, The Beast/Casey Cooke
Comments: 79
Kudos: 125





	1. Explain This (Orwell/Casey)

**Author's Note:**

> Spent the holidays fighting off some kind of bug (argghhhh) so I had plenty of time to write. 
> 
> First off is something new and original: Casey/Orwell action!  
> ...kind of. 
> 
> The utterly amazing Smithsbabe65 and I came up with this silly little idea and she asked to see it fleshed out. Hope you like it Smithsbabe, you're the best!

“Always with these megalomaniacs declaring themselves as some sort of divinity! Not that we would know anything about delusions of grandeur, would we? I suppose if Hong Xiuquan had the Beast as a resource, China might have looked very different than it is today.”

It took concentrated effort, but Casey managed not to sigh and roll her eyes as Orwell continued to orate. Getting an answer out of him was next to impossible.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true-getting a response from him was easy, the man loved the sound of his own voice. Getting him to specifically acknowledge her request was what was impossible, and she wasn’t sure if he was trying to turn her down gently, or he actually was that obtuse. It _would_ be like him to be so smart and yet so clueless. 

She tried again. “I think your research on the Taiping Rebellion is super fascinating. Would you want to tell me about it more tonight? In bed, maybe?”

That wasn’t false flattery, she really did find his tangents interesting. Actually, it was a big part of the reason she found Orwell so attractive. He had a way of taking endless information and condensing it all into the most interesting and salient points and yes, it made Casey a little hotter than she may have felt comfortable admitting out loud.

But Orwell just didn’t get what she was about. He shifted his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and they slid right back down; what he really needed was a set of new frames, something hard to procure when one was on the lam. “Well yes, as I said, I would love to! But is my study not comfortable enough for your liking?”

Casey nervously twisted her fingers around themselves, little "o's" that mirrored the pursing of her lips. “I was hoping that once we were done talking…” Could this be any more awkward? “I think the bed would be more comfortable for what I had in mind. Unless you’d prefer your desk, of course.”

She offered him a flirty smile through hooded eyes; Orwell _loved_ her eyes and always compared them to some long dead historical muse. Last time it was Aspasia, a woman so beautiful she had captured the heart of Pericles himself. Apparently.

Orwell looked at her like she was losing her mind. “I can’t say I’d recommend my desk for sleep, no.”

Oh, for god’s sake. “Orwell, I’m asking you if you want to have sex with me!”

The man blinked at her slowly. For once, he found himself without an immediate response and that left him slightly unnerved, being clever was kind of his _thing_.

However, he had to admit this certainly was an interesting proposal. It was a fact most of the others just assumed he wasn’t interested in sex, and while that wasn’t exactly untrue, it wasn’t the whole truth either. He wasn’t an asexual creature, but there was only one body to share between so many other, _more eager_ alters, as it were. Frankly that just gave him more time to do the things nearest and dearest his heart while he held the light, but to deny this was an opportunity for a new, fresh experience would be farcical. In reality, sex was the grease keeping the wheel of history turning, and Orwell had yet to sample this slice of human experience.

No use getting ahead of himself though, parameters had to be set. Walking out from behind his desk, Orwell took Casey's hands in his, only now just noticing how lovely she was looking. “Just to be clear, you know who you're speaking with, yes? You want to sleep with me?”

While not normally shy with Kevin or any of his alters, Casey needed to look away, Orwell’s stare was intense. “If the feeling is mutual…yes…”

"I accept!"

She jumped, startled by his sudden eagerness, but Orwell was already lost in his own world and had to quickly excuse himself from the study, leaving behind a baffled Casey. If this were to happen, there was much to prepare for.

For one thing, while he was sure Casey would not be asking him to bed if she weren’t at least a _little_ attracted to him, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to do once they got there. Of course he understood the mechanics of it, but seducing a woman? Not in the repertoire.

He could turn to the internet; lord knew if it existed for anything, it was for sex. Hell, all he had to do was go into their bookmarks and he was sure he would find a veritable glut of pornography of varying types, although far as he could tell, porn wasn't the best representation of real sex. Besides, doing so was the equivalent of opening Pandora's box, he did _not_ want to know those sorts of things about the others inhabiting Kevin's body. What turned Luke or Ian on could remain a mystery, thank you very much.

Surely there were more scholarly articles on the subject, but then Jalin would find out what Orwell had been up to and mock him mercilessly. Jalin _always_ found out, no matter how many times their search history had been scrubbed. Damn tech savy troglodyte.

Of course he could pick the brains of Barry or Kevin (Dennis wouldn't deign to entertain the thought), but that seemed crass. Even if they were comfortable discussing the intricacies of their sex lives, that was no indication Casey was, and frankly it just seemed improper. Besides, he didn't want their experiences to color his own, if this were to be a true exploration of sexuality, Orwell had to go into it with an unbiased set of expectations.

That just left him with his books, the papers and parchment kind, but where to start? He browsed and rebrowsed his entire library, and while there was the odd selection of poetry and art history, there was not one mention of the female orgasm in any of the pages.

Useless.

This was turning out to be far more complicated than initially thought.

* * *

When Casey walked into their bedroom later on, she was…not prepared for what greeted her. In hindsight, maybe she should have been.

Orwell was there, yes, but their bed was pretty much gone, no longer visible underneath a pile of pure academia vomit. Instead, there were so, so many papers. Note cards were scattered in all directions, and sticking out of thick books for a quick, easy reference to…something perhaps best left unknown. Manila folders stuffed full of photocopied pages littered the floor like the world’s least romantic rose petals, and tomes that could only be encyclopedias lay spread out on the comforter.

Casey’s mind immediately went into playful mode, assuming this was some sort of prank. Clearly Jalin or Jade had gotten wind of Casey’s intentions and set the well meaning alter up to this. She searched the room for signs of their involvement, but found nothing. “Orwell…what is this? Are we researching the elusive g-spot?"

Orwell balked. “Do we…do we not know where that is? I was hoping you would know.”

Alright, so this wasn’t a joke. “Uh…ok. How did your study explode all over our bedroom?”

This Orwell could answer. “I’m so glad you asked. You know I am a man who likes to be prepared, especially when going into something blind-‘ _By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail_ ’, as Franklin said.” He shrugged. “I'd like to think I am a man above simple machismo, but even I do not wish to misstep here.”

Casey remained silent, still confused, and Orwell was suddenly feeling very silly. “I would have asked one of the others for insight, but a gentleman does not kiss and tell, as it were. I had to figure out my own way, I don’t like being in the dark. Figuratively speaking of course, unless you do prefer to keep the lights on during sexual encounters.” 

_Now_ Casey understood. He was insecure about having sex for the first time, and instead of overcompensating with some hyper masculine bullshit he turned to what he understood best: words. Lots and lots of words. Well, the fantasy _had_ been a romp with the garrulous professor in between classes, and this certainly helped set the mood. "The effort is all very sweet, but I’m not sure how we’re supposed to have sex like this.”

Orwell really had no idea what she meant, what was he missing? “Oh! Forgive me, you’ve caught me unprepared. I was afraid of this.” He removed his glasses and placed them gingerly on the nightstand as a couple of books tumbled off the bed in protest at the sudden movement. “There, now I’m ready.”

Casey tried not to laugh, she didn't want to hurt his feelings. “Could we start by making room for me on the bed? Maybe move some of the books?”

Orwell's eyes scanned the bed up and down before returning to rest on her amused face. Hints of pink kissed her nose and cheeks, causing heat to creep up along his own neck. "But we need those."

"We do?"

"Well, maybe not _all_ of them," he sighed, selecting a few on Casey's side to remove. "I guess we can do without _Ananga Ranga_ or _The Perfumed Garden_. Although...I don't suppose you read Arabic?"

She shook her head.

He kept his eyes squinted at her for a moment as though he suspected her of lying, but just as quickly waved the idea away. "Oh well, I can always teach you later."

Before Casey could protest _that_ use of their time, he pat the now (somewhat) cleared other half of the bed, indicating he wanted her to get on. She picked her way carefully through the mess, cautious not to step on anything that looked even remotely expensive, although that seemed to be most of it. Sliding under the covers, she found it to be a tight fit, but managed to mold her body around the obscene amount of hardcovers that surrounded them. 

As soon as she was settled, Orwell shoved a tablet and a stylus into her hands, impatient to begin the night's events. Looking it over, it appeared to be a spreadsheet with various sex positions, divided by ease of use and theoretical pleasure levels. Casey blushed furiously, but Orwell ignored her reaction, shifting into lecture mode.

“Before we start, what I will need you to do is pick the positions most pleasing to you so I may mark them down and reference them later for further study. I took the liberty of pre-selecting a few that favored clitoral stimulation, but that was really just a stab in the dark, I welcome the correction if I’m wrong.”

“Orwell…”

"For instance, while what is colloquially known as 'doggy style' is a suitable position for ease of access to the female genitals, many studies have reported that a large amount of women rate it quite unfavorably, so you can imagine my dilemma on where to place it. Perhaps fittingly, many a religious institution of the bygone years condemned the act as too animalistic and thus it was banned-"

"ORWELL!"

The man barely took a breath or paused. “I know, I know, this should have been done hours ago, but you know me-so many thoughts, so little time! You proposed this venture and I really have to insist that-”

Blessedly, he stopped talking as soon as she pressed her lips into his, willing him with all of her might to just SHUT. UP.

Initially there was some hesitancy, but soon he relaxed enough to let Casey guide him. His tongue cautiously flicked at her own as instinct kicked in, and before long the kiss went from sweet and chaste to bold. His hands were everywhere, mind working overtime trying to categorize and file each and every sensation he was experiencing. Casey’s skin was soft underneath his fingertips, so much softer than the parchment and cloth binding he was used to feeling, and it gave way to his touch with satisfying coherence. The rush of oxytocin to the brain was making it harder to keep his wits about him, and he finally understood why some of the others always turned into fumbling Neanderthals around women-this was intoxicating.

When they finally separated, Orwell was rendered speechless for the second time that day and could only manage to rest his forehead against Casey's, panting gently in time with his runaway heartbeat.

“That was...exquisite...." he eventually whispered, and Casey smiled, enjoying his appreciation for their newfound intimacy. "Now, if we could just get back to the survey...” 

She flopped back down onto the bed with a groan. This was going to be a long night....

Orwell immediately seemed to have forgotten what they had been up to only seconds ago, instead hungrily devouring some words on a page like he SHOULD have been devouring her pussy. “Oh, this is fascinating! Were you aware that the reason France and Britain became such good allies in the 18th century was because King Edward VII needed an excuse to visit French brothels?" 

“I wasn't, no.” Casey shifted her body around, trying to get comfortable, but as he droned on his voice began melding with the heat in the room, pulling her closer to blessed unconsciousness.

"It's true! They actually had to have a special chair made for him to use during his...excursions. He weighed quite a bit it seems. Hmmm."

"Orwell, do any of your books tell you that foreplay involves stories about obese, horny dead men? Because they're lying to you if they do."

He ignored her. "Oh, that reminds me, how do you feel about the lotus position?" 

"I don't know what that is. Why don't you _show_ me?"

"I hesitated to even bring it up, it is from _Kamasutra_ after all. I know, I know, you must find me quite gauche, but you have to admit that Vātsyāyana really managed to hit a nerve with the collective world. Oh! Listen to this passage, then..."

He rambled on and on, and in her half sleep state, Casey decided it was actually...kind of nice. While Orwell's voice lacked the punch of Dennis or the gentleness of Kevin, it was a voice that was used to being utilized, a voice that expected to be heard and understood. The sexual proclivities of long dead monarchs and philosophers morphed into a strange sort of lullaby, and Casey soon found herself in Morpheus's arms.

* * *

Some time passed before Orwell realized he had been once again caught up in his readings, and he briefly glanced over at Casey. She looked so pretty lying there, chest rising and falling, lips slightly parted, it was almost enough to pull him away from his book. Was it bad manners to let her sleep without having satisfied her sexual needs, or would it be worse to wake her? Dilemmas.

Perhaps there was an answer in his book. Yes, he must continue reading, for Casey’s sake. He gently pat her hand. “Tomorrow my dear. I'll have this whole thing worked out by tomorrow.”


	2. Blood Honey (Casey/The Beast)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beast does romance the best he knows how. Rough sex ensues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ao3 series system is seriously aggy, I don't want to have to fill out archive warnings/characters for every one shot. I'm just gonna stick with chapter formatting I guess.
> 
> Anyway, a few people were asking for Beast smut and I didn't think it was happening anytime soon in my main story, but I'm degenerate and won't pass up an opportunity to write Split sexcapades. Enjoy.

When the Beast asked her to disappear with him, Casey wasn’t sure what to expect. However, she certainly wasn't disappointed as they came to scale the rocky face of Hurricane Ridge, the mountainous portion of Washington’s Olympic National Park. It was easy enough to avoid prying eyes as the park was much less populated during the fall, so Casey allowed herself to relax and enjoy the ride, despite the fact they were traveling quite far above ground.

Eventually the Beast decided they had found a private enough area and, without warning, made the transition from rock to forest floor, lurching forward and away from the craggy outcroppings of the mountain's peak. Casey tumbled rather ungracefully from his back but the landing was soft, the ground thick with lush fauna nourished by constant West Coast rain.

The Beast kept moving a few more paces but then noticed he no longer carried his passenger and doubled back around to where she lay panting. He nosed her neck, catching her scent. “What is wrong? Your heart beats too fast, but you don’t smell of fear.”

Casey laughed. “Well, that was a bit of an adrenaline rush.” While they were certainly high up, it was hard to feel any fear with _him_ nearby. There was a better chance of winning the damned lottery then any harm being allowed to befall her. She hopped to her feet, brushing detritus from her clothes as she did so. “This is a beautiful place, but I’m not sure why we’re here.”

He stared at her, eyes nearly black in the shadow of the trees. The others had been wearing Kevin's hair longer as a disguise, most opting to keep it pulled back, but the Beast let if fall freely, obscuring much of his face. “You’ve finally chosen us as your life mate.” 

Casey’s heart skipped a beat at the memory; Kevin had proposed! Well, technically it was Dennis…Kevin had hemmed and hawed for a good five minutes while Barry patiently tried to help him gather the courage to ask.

At some point, Dennis couldn’t take the anxiety and had flung them down to their knees while practically throwing the ring at Casey. Barry was pissed, but she couldn’t help but be a bit awed-she had never seen Dennis so overcome with nerves before. To be honest, she would have thought that he out of all of the alters would have had reservations about marriage, but clearly the idea meant a lot to him, enough that he cared about her answer.

Of course all was forgiven when she agreed to marry them, and Casey couldn’t have been any happier. “That’s true! Did you get a ring for me too?” She was teasing, but should have known he wouldn’t get the joke.

“You seek a gift?” His body tensed, muscles coiling underneath his skin at the effort. “Yes, that is understandable. It is only appropriate that I prove to you that I am worthy. If this were done properly, I would fight all others who vied for your affections and bring you their heads. I would challenge Barry, but…” he made a face as if to say ‘ _well, I’m not killing myself.’_

“That’s not really what I mea-"

Before she could reassure him that she most certainly did _not_ need a gift (and preferred Barry very much alive), he had begun to climb down the cliff once again. “Stay! I will not tarry!” he yelled, voice growing faint as he crossed distance rapidly. Casey wasn’t entirely sure where he expected her to go, they were miles from nowhere.

As she waited, the engagement ring on her hand became a source of fascination. It was breathtakingly gorgeous and she couldn't imagine how many hours of overtime they would have had to work, how many dresses Barry would have had to sell to afford it. Kevin had informed her that all the alters had chipped in money as a form of their blessing, even Patricia, and the knowledge burned a hole of rapture right through her.

The Beast's sudden return was heralded by a triumphant roar, startling her out of her reverie, and a desiccated cougar dropped at her feet. “My offering, the most potent predator I could find and challenge. It is not a worthy one in face of your greatness, but it is still given with devotion.”

Cautiously nudging the carcass with her foot, the thing practically deflated in front of Casey, innards oozing out with a sigh and ungodly smell. It was disgusting and a little sad, but that was nature, wasn’t it?

She shut her eyes to blot the image from her mind and moved to wipe the blood from the Beast's mouth so she could kiss him; but he pulled her to himself, feral and hungry. His lips pressed into her so hard she thought there would be bruising, but just as suddenly he pushed away from her. “The offering was not sufficient. You do not want me as a mate.” It was stated as fact, not question, and for the first time she could remember, his stormy eyes held traces of grief.

The metallic taste of blood was pricking at her tongue and it gave Casey an idea. “It wasn’t what I wanted. I want to hunt _you_.”

His expression alternated between confusion and amusement. “I do not understand.”

“Ever since we first met, you've been defining the parameters of our relationship. ‘I am a god’, “you are worthy’, ‘they are the impure!’. You want my heart? Let me choose. Let me claim you for myself.”

Her answer came in the form of bared teeth, a smile so wide it nearly split his face in half. “Kevin has chosen his mate well,” he growled, the sound of a lion purring in pleasure. “Very well. Hunt me down. I will not make myself easy prey though.” 

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Come and follow then, if you can.” He was there and then he was gone.

Casey quickly chased after him. Watching him move never got any less breathtaking, muscle and sinew working in tandem to do things that man was never meant to. He wouldn’t be hard to trail; the forest looked like King Kong himself had just passed through. Scores of branches were littering the forest floor, broken off from the force of the Beast using them as launching pads. There were gouges in the tree bark that he had clung to, holes in the ground imprinted so deeply that she could make out his individual toes in the prints. Despite his promise to not hold back, it was obvious he was not moving at nearly full strength, and she was glad for it. Casey was not foolish enough to believe she would have stood a chance then, _she_ wasn’t a superhuman.

The game continued unabated for a few minutes until suddenly Casey realized she could no longer see or hear him. There was a clearing ahead and she stopped, ears twitching and skin prickling; she was being watched. Why he had hidden himself away she couldn’t say, the Beast certainly wasn’t one to mask his presence. The idea that he _wanted_ to be caught, that he craved what came next flashed through her mind, but she wasn’t interested in easy mode.

There was the barest sound up and to her left, a throaty exhale. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, not even on high alert, but she knew the sounds of Kevin’s body inside and out, no matter who inhabited it.

She pretended not to hear, kept walking by, but when she was close enough to pivot she lunged in the direction she had heard him last. She felt a surge of glee when she saw the look of shock on his face as she bared down upon him, and he was so caught off guard that he was subdued easily enough, allowing her to pin him.

He wore an expression of such pride and desire that she immediately dipped her head down for a kiss, catching his lower lip between her teeth. The kiss was hungry and painful, and she only drew back when she could taste his blood in her mouth, the softness of his lips not afforded the benefit of rhinoceros skin. Not caring about his minor injury, the Beast refused to let her go and they rolled about the forest floor, clothes ripping and nails drawing blood; if someone had chanced upon them, it would be unclear if the pair were fighting or getting ready to fuck. What _would be_ apparently clear was that the much bigger man was incredibly taken with the woman, blunting the force of his movements the way a lion would with its cubs.

Eventually growing bored with the game, the Beast finally pinned Casey, forearm held to her throat. Not enough to bruise, just enough for her to feel his strength. “You have caught me,” he rumbled, “what do you intend to do with me?”

Casey would not be cowed. “Do you submit?”

A few moments of silence passed while he processed she had just asked, pinned and underneath his considerable power. He blinked once, then twice, before throwing his head back and laughing. This female had him marked, and he was her Beast. Yes, he did submit, he did.

Inclining his head, he removed his considerable bulk from her small frame and lay down besides her, his great chest heaving as he took in air. “You are my mate?” he asked again, this time with an edge of desperation to his voice.

“Yes, I am your mate. Till death do us part.”

“No death,” the Beast growled. “Not here. Not for us. Come.”

Casey rolled over onto her side, staring at him quizzically. “Where are we going now?”

“I want to take you somewhere. Sacred. Untouched. Ours.” He got on his knees, indicating that she should climb onto his back for easier transportation. She did so without further commentary, and in seconds they were airborne, flying across the the park.

After a bit of travel, they found themselves in what was literally a rain forest, and Casey's mouth fell open, unable to believe what she was seeing. She had certainly heard from locals and tourists alike how stunning the Hoh Rainforest was, but to see it in person...she didn't think such otherworldly beauty was possible outside of carefully curated photo shoots, and certainly not so easily accessible. 

So enamored with her surroundings, she barely noticed as the Beast gently placed her down on the ground. He withdrew for a moment, but came back seconds later only to pace around her in circles like a predator taking stock of its prey; the look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat.

Without warning he took her back into his arms and bounded up a massive Douglas Maple, setting her on a thick branch covered in soft emerald moss. He was on top of her so fast there wasn't even time to protest the shredding of her pants. Chastisement died on her lips as he ripped her legs out from under her and over his shoulders, then nudged his way between her thighs to get to his prize.

It was always fair to say that the Beast was very much an oral creature, and while that usually spelled bad news for most people, Casey found herself in another realm altogether. The strength and intensity of his tongue was beyond all imagination and he was relentless, not giving her one second of reprieve from the sparks of pleasure erupting from her nerves. There was no buildup, only screaming delight as his mouth found every secret, sensitive place inside of her and bound them to his mercy. The Beast was not known for mercy.

After the first orgasm shook her body, she suddenly became very cognizant of the fact that they were still 50 feet in the air, and vertigo quickly set in. “Do you think maybe we could take this somewhere a little less terrifying?” Her voice was strained from both endorphines and fear, and the Beast did little to relieve her concerns as he grinned at her. It was the closest she had ever seen him come to looking playful, and frankly it was alarming.

“Where is your taste for adventure, my love?’ he growled before picking her up and setting her on her stomach. She clung to the branch underneath them for dear life, but he just laughed. “I will not let you fall, calm yourself.”

Despite the moss, tree bark rubbed irritatingly against her body, but once again all complaints were cut short as the Beast snaked a hand underneath her hips and his fingers found her clit. His other arm wrapped around the tree branch, pinning them both down securely, and she tried to relax as his fingers rubbed at a pace that had her insides already beginning to clench again. She could feel his hardness thrust between her ass as he played with her, clearly ready to fuck as soon as she gave the signal. Drops of pre-cum soon began trickling onto her lower back and the thought that she was responsible for turning this demigod into a willing sex toy was driving her wild.

By the time her second orgasm hit, she no longer had the strength to hold on, so the Beast took her tenderly in his arms and dropped them back down to solid ground. "Are you ready for me?" His voice was a low hum by her ear, sending waves of excitement all throughout her body, her toes curling in anticipation. 

In response she kissed him hungrily and he pinned her to the tree trunk as though she weighed nothing. He entered her easily and began to set the pace, surprisingly gentle for the moment. Wrapping her legs around his sides, Casey barely felt the bark cutting into her skin as his snapping hips brought with them waves of pleasure. 

Whether by instinct or his own subtle prompting Casey could not say, but she suddenly became intensely aware of the desire to bite down on his neck. There was no way she could pierce his hard flesh, no way to squeeze the air from him, but even so the Beast began bucking wildly under her, ecstatic over the emergence of her own inner beast as her teeth found his throat. "Harder!" She ordered, still baring down, and with a growl he tossed her to the ground and reentered from behind, holding her hips still with massive hands.

Without warning he began pounding away, causing stars to flicker in front of her eyes. The way her body responded to his touch drove the Beast crazy and he fucked her into the soft earth, even as she pushed back against him, begging for more. Their movements morphed into a sort of primal dance, his thrusts keeping time with the heartbeat of the forest. As her next orgasm began to build, Casey's own panting and growls added to the symphony, and it felt as though once they reached a crescendo, a force of nature would be unleashed.

The telltale signs of orgasm tickled at Casey's lower body. Knowing she could not hurt him, she bit into a muscular forearm as hard as she could while she came around his cock, their feral coupling affecting her in more ways then just one. Something like a laugh and a groan escaped the Beast as he filled her with his seed, ecstatic over the idea of fathering more superhumans with this goddess among women.

"You will bare us children, and they will devour this whole world!" he roared victoriously, and Casey tried not to roll her eyes, even as she lay spent and satisfied.

"Kevin and I haven't talked about kids yet, but keep making me come like that and we might have a deal."

Taking her at her word (when would she learn to stop making jokes?), he flipped her onto her back to begin eating her out once more, but she begged off. "If we don't take a break, I won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow. Just...relax a moment and lay with me." The sun was setting, and from their vantage point it looked like the western sky was on fire. Breathtaking.

This idea didn't please the Beast nearly as much as the thought of progeny. "The Beast must always be on the move!"

Casey shrugged. "Yeah? Well, _Barry_ would cuddle with me. He's pretty much the best at it. Maybe you could get him for me."

The Beast looked like he didn't know what to do with this new information before deciding on punching a hole through a nearby Sitka spruce. "None cuddle better than the pinnacle of human evolution!" he protested, and a startled rabbit came crashing out of the brush and across their path. Casey listened to it retreat further into the forest as he took her into his arms, mumbling something about never being bested in _anything_. 

She tried to keep her grin to herself.


	3. Make Me (Casey/Dennis)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis and Casey spend their first anniversary together exploring some of Dennis's interests. Also, damn that man can cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Dennis this, Dennis that, I'm starting to think you all actually like Dennis, what with his broad shoulders and sexy button downs and pouty face and...and.. that stupid hot wannabe goodfellas accent. FINE! This is for you.  
> 2\. It doesn't seem to be popular sentiment, but imo Dennis has definitely got a sub streak in him, although it's more fun to have him play both sides. Let it be known, let it be so.  
> 3\. As far as WIP I have Samuel for The_Mighty_Gamersaurs, Kevin for InfiniteandMortal, and Patricia for LadyEloquence coming up. Still open to requests if you've got a specific kink you'd like to see, although it might be a while as you can see I've got a bit of a queue to work on. Bear with me, fam.

Dennis cursed himself as he carefully shut the oven door once again. He probably wasn’t doing himself any favors by checking on the roast repeatedly, but it was hard not to. It wasn’t even his OCD flaring up, just good old fashioned nerves; the kind that afflicted men whether or not they had multiple people living inside their mind. Casey had that effect on him-made him feel normal, or at least normally neurotic instead of hopelessly neurotic. And that was the reason for all of his jitters just then. It was their anniversary.

At first, Dennis found the idea of an anniversary a little silly (it had been Barry’s idea after all, the same Barry who pretty much made it his life mission to be as impractical as possible). Dennis, Barry, and Kevin had all started a relationship with Casey at various points in time, so who was to say when their true anniversary date was? Was she supposed to celebrate with all three of them in just one day?

Barry had rolled his eyes. “Who cares? Why not make it three days? You really going to tell me Casey doesn’t deserve three days of celebration?”

Dennis most certainly had _not_ said anything of the sort, but as usual, Barry got his way. And he had to admit it was a good idea once he saw how excited Casey became. While she initially protested the idea, it was obvious from the gleam in her eyes that it appealed to her, so of course Dennis relented. Plus, it gave him an excuse to dote on her. Not that he needed an excuse, but out of twenty four alters someone had to be the practical one, and that often fell to Dennis and Patricia. But an anniversary? What kind of monster would Dennis be if he didn’t get to spoil the love of his life on their anniversary?

And so it was, three different men, three different days to celebrate, and all was well. Well, it would have been well if maybe Dennis had opted to go with ordering takeout instead of cooking himself.

Despite his misgivings, soon enough the kitchen was filled with the mouth watering smell of garlic and butter, lemon and Rosemary, and the tension finally drained a bit from his shoulders. It took people by surprise, but he really was a fine cook. He wouldn’t wish OCD on anyone, but had to admit that being such an exacting personality made for good habits in the kitchen. He just hoped that Casey would be pleased.

Checking his watch, he saw he had about ten minutes left before she would be home from work. A quick scan of the kitchen showed everything to be in order-a sparkling clean table, freshly cut flowers, the few bits of good china they owned arranged tastefully. It was as perfect as it could be, meaning not nearly good enough for Dennis, but it would have to do.

Washing up, he gave himself a once over in the mirror hanging over their sink. He realized he still had his sleeves rolled up and moved to re-button them, but paused. Casey had made it painfully clear that she enjoyed having his arms on display, even though it was vexing to not be fully put together. He supposed he’d better not touch them.

The things one did for love.

“Dennis!?”

The front door banged open, and he bit back a groan as he imagined needing to patch up yet another hole from the doorknob impacting the wall. The little minx was constantly rushing through the front doorway like she was in some sort of sitcom, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d made a mess for him.

He decided not to scold. It never did any good, and there were few things less sexy then acting like someone’s father. Instead, he nervously ran a hand over his scalp before calling out. "I'm in the kitchen! I hope you're hungry, dinner is almost ready.” 

Light footsteps entered the kitchen and deceptively delicate looking arms wrapped around him from behind. Casey stood on her tip toes to kiss the back of his neck, sending goosebumps cascading over his skin. “I don’t know what’s cooking, but it smells heavenly. You don't know how excited I am right now.”

Dennis allowed the warmth her words offered to spread throughout his body, and he smiled as he turned around to place a kiss on her forehead. "I hope it lives up to the expectation."

"You never disappoint me. Never."

Those would be words of encouragement for anyone else, but Dennis felt a twinge of anxiety. Would tonight be the night he finally let her down?

Noticing that he was starting to get stuck inside his head, Casey took hold of his hands and led him over to the stove, making a scene of admiring everything. "Can I help serve food?"

He waved her away, gently shooing her to sit down at the kitchen table. "Of course not. Go relax, I've got it."

Her eyes remained glued to him as he made the multiple treks from stove to table, laying out the various dishes he had prepared-a roast, potatoes, sides of steamed carrots and broccoli, and of course a large bottle of Casey's favorite red wine. He watched with not unobvious pleasure as she took in just how very hard he had worked for her that afternoon, and couldn't help but chuckle at the relish with which she dug in.

"So, what do you think?" He asked after a few minutes of eating.

"I think I had no idea that you could even cook like this. What the hell, Dennis?" She was already reaching for seconds, and he marveled at how fast she managed to shovel the food down.

"Well, now that the secret is out, I guess I'm relegated to kitchen duty from now on."

"Look, don't tell Goddard or Norma, but I could get use to this."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." 

The look she gave him was mischievous, and her dark eyes were laughing, knowing something he didn't. "Not that I want to rush this delicious meal, but I can't wait to give you _your_ gift."

Pausing mid-bite, Dennis stared up at her over his fork. She really should know better than to tease him, now he was going to have a hard time concentrating on eating. Given the smirk on her face, it was apparent she knew exactly what she was doing, and he could feel her run a foot up his thigh, pressing into his crotch. He lay his utensils down calmly, trying to regain his sense of self-control. "Could have fooled me. If I'd have known any better, I'd think you wanted me to push everything off this table and bend you over it."

"Hmmm." Casey pretended to think, but it was clear she had something else in mind. "How about we try something different tonight?"

In most cases, Dennis did not like different. It had taken years to get a system down where life was functional, and changing those plans often spelled disaster. Of course, if this "different" involved himself and Casey getting naked together, he was a bit more open minded. He'd like to think that meant he was growing as a person, but he was probably just a pervert. Oh well. "I'm listening."

"I'm going to make you my bitch."

"Uh..." he raised an eyebrow, more confused then anything. 

"Wait, sorry, I'm bad at this. I mean, I wanted to...here. Just wait here." She stood up from the table, sliding her plate away from the edge before rushing back to their room. Dennis sat in puzzled silence for a few minutes as he listened to her stomp around the bedroom doing god knew what as the food grew colder. 

Finally she peeked her head from around the corner, her hair curtaining the sides of her face. "Can you come out to the living room, please?"

The food was still laying out in the open, screaming to be sorted into little plastic dishes and set away, but something in her voice was able to drown out the compulsion, and he dutifully joined her in the other room. He stopped, stared, and stared some more, blinking back his surprise as his eyes roamed her body.

She was sitting on a wooden chair, wearing a tight black dress and calf-high wedge boots. Was that...latex? His mouth was suddenly impossibly dry, the shine from her boots glaring up at him like the heat of the sun. On her lap lay a small box covered in purple wrapping paper, but he couldn't be bothered with whatever was inside, what was _outside_ was much more appealing.

She motioned him forward, palming the gift between her thighs. “I know you've been rather...shy about your fantasies. I was hoping you would let me indulge you tonight.”

His breath hitched and he looked at the small woman warily. “What the fuck does that mean?” Smiling, Casey shrugged and held out the present to him. “What’s in there?” He tried to sound gruff, but his control was fading fast. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

Cautiously, he took the small box, examining it like it could blow up at any second. He removed the paper evenly, without tearing, and found himself holding an unmarked brown box. And inside...oh, inside...

He nearly dropped it as if he had been shocked. “Where did you get these?”

The leather cuffs inside were shined to perfection, just thick and sturdy enough to restrain a grown man, and inlaid with soft silk. Casey winked at him, and he felt a bit dizzy when he realized she had been waiting all this time just for the opportunity. She had gotten them for _him_.

Without another word, he held out his hands obediently, but she shook her head. “If you want to play, you have to prove that you can listen. You can listen, can’t you Dennis?”

She was purring in a voice that sounded alien coming from her mouth, tempting her to abandon the whole charade immediately. Fortunately, it was obvious that Dennis was buying into the character in the strongest way possible. His broad shoulders were heaving, and he couldn’t help continually darting his tongue out to wet his lips, subconsciously getting ready to taste her.

“Yes, I can listen,” he growled, blue-gray eyes flashing bright white like a forge, bits of hot metal sparking off of them.

Now feeling more confident, Casey reclined further back into her chair, Dennis’s rapt attention fueling her fire. “Strip for me.”

He blinked, unsure that he had heard her correctly. “I’m sorry?”

“Good boys don’t question, they just do.”

The night had just taken a turn for the bizarre, and some dark part of him wondered if she was just making fun of him now.

“I’m... not Barry and I can’t move like Barry.” Barry was all coiled muscle and long strides, liquid heat and a tease in nearly every conceivable way. Dennis was of the opinion that there was no reason to rely on charm and seduction when you could just punch things, and that never left him much room for learning how to strip tease.

“I don’t want you to move like Barry.” Her eye roll was impossibly dramatic. “Now take your shirt off. Slowly. Like you would want me to.”

Briefly chewing on his bottom lip, Dennis stood in place, torn. He wanted to be obedient, but he felt ridiculous.

Then Casey flashed a thigh, garter belt peaking out behind the hem of her dress, and he suddenly found his hands moving of their own volition. Starting at his collar, he began unclasping his buttons one at a time, keeping his steely gaze on the object of his affections. She made of face of frustration when it became apparent that he was wearing layers and it almost made him laugh out loud. This was quite the role reversal.

The shirt was hanging open now, revealing a grey wife beater underneath, and she clicked her tongue. "Take _all_ of it off." Her voice cracked as desire seeped in and in turn she blushed, easing his insecurity. 

He stepped closer, shrugging out of his button down and handing it to her like it was the most precious thing he owned, and maybe it was. He would never deign to be this submissive with anyone else. With one hand he grabbed the hem of the undershirt and slowly lifted it over his head, letting his muscles flex as he freed himself of it. His eyes scanned her face and found nothing but desire there. “Do you want to touch me?”

Casey’s mouth grew dry as her lower half became wet and she couldn’t find her voice, just nodded. Hungry hands reached out for him, and he allowed her to pull him closer, so close the scent of new latex singed his nostrils. Pristine, shining, delectable. He had never been a foot fetishist, but he felt the need to worship at her booted feet, only he had promised to be good, hadn't he?

Soft kisses graced his skin as Casey's lips met his body. His eyes fluttered shut with pleasure as she began to knead at his lower back before sneaking down to his ass and squeezing. He jumped in surprise and she laughed freely. "God, you are so handsome I can't stand it."

Such a mundane compliment from a partner, but the idea of someone wanting him still felt foreign. He swallowed hard, heart stuttering in his chest. “Tell me…what you want. Please, tell me. I'll listen, I'll be good. Anything for you.”

Oh, choices. Casey was torn between appreciation for the sight before her and the need for him to touch her, he _was_ making such a pretty little scene of begging. However, the wine from dinner was beginning to kick in, sloshing about her head, and self control was at a premium. Need finally won out. She leaned further over in her chair, breasts on full display as she bent forward. “Make me feel good, Dennis.”

Tension reigned between them as he wavered for a silent minute, chest heaving, his shoulders becoming a hypnotic pendulum. Suddenly he grabbed the arms of her chair and dragged it into the next room, a makeshift art studio containing a large, full length body mirror. Without commentary he left the chair next to the mirror and stormed over to Barry’s desk, rustling through the drawers like a man searching for a lifeline.

Casey found her voice again. “What are you doing over there?” Dennis just grunted, far past the point of caring to use words. She wagged a finger, still enjoying her dominant role. “No no, good pets speak when they are spoken to.”

God, it was hot when she ordered him around. “I'm doing as you asked." He hesitated as he pulled out some rope from the desk, searching for the right words as his mind raced. "Sometimes... you watch me work around the house.”

“Yes?”

“Then you should know what you were asking for.”

“I don’t…”

“Oh, yes you do.” He walked back over to brush the hair from her neck and brought his lips down to the soft skin there, beginning to suck. “You know exactly what you do to me. And you know that I strive for nothing less then perfection, in everything I do. This will be no different.” His voice, normally so full of Brooklyn whine, was now grit and lust. “Watch me work now.”

Calloused hands spread her thighs apart before removing her boots and then tying each ankle to a chair leg so they remained open. He rubbed her inner thighs soothingly, silently asking for consent, and she breathed in deeply, his scent alone sending blood rushing through her, dizzying. Her hands were left unbound; he knew how much she loved tugging at his hair when he did something particularly enjoyable, and he in turn relished those little spikes of pain jolting through his scalp.

Without warning, he pulled one of Barry’s dressmaker shears from his back pocket and cut open the front of her dress. She was almost too shocked to protest, and for a moment he looked sheepish.

“Barry can fix it. If he can’t, I’ll buy you a new one. Hell, I’ll buy you ten more.” Truth be told Dennis was planning on cutting it off anyway, the thing was skin tight and he had little patience to be wasting on undress. Not when she sat there in front of him, spread wide and needing his attention.

His lips first searched her own out, planting surprisingly gentle kisses before moving ever lower, down her neck, to her collarbone, sucking and nipping as she arched her back in an effort to get closer to his mouth. Trailing further down, he hovered right where she wanted him, and he watched her reaction intently. Something seemed to flash behind his eyes, and he immediately got up off his knees and adjusted her chair so that she was now facing the mirror instead of alongside it.

“I want you to see everything I’m doing to you,” he whispered in her ear, and Casey’s stomach dropped all the way down to her feet, meeting her curling toes. Despite the fact her legs were restrained, Dennis still placed a large palm on one of her thighs and moved them even further apart, giving her a chance to see every inch of her that was now vulnerable to his whims.

Before she became too titillated, he was on his knees once again, covering every square inch of her with his hands, grasping, devouring. “I live for you,” his breath was hot against her thighs as he kissed her there. “I worship you.” The marks he left were scorching, sending waves of fire to her groin. "I love you more than anything, you know that, right?"

“Dennis….please.” Any sense of the game they had been playing was now abandoned, and all Casey wanted was to feel him on and inside of her, now, immediately.

The reflection of the mirror was torturous. As she watched, and he took a finger, slowly, and rubbed the cotton material of her underwear. The effect on her body was instantaneous and she nearly wrenched herself up out of the chair. Barry's scissors were once again called upon to free her from the tyranny of clothing, and she now sat completely exposed, unsure if she could handle what was coming next. Her skin felt electric, tingling at the slightest hint of movement as his breath caressed her.

Dennis set to work, a man on a mission. When his tongue found her clit she was more then ready, and he let himself be guided by her moans, the way she grasped threads of his hair when he laved a particularly sensitive spot. Strong fingers gripped her hips as he worked her over, and he chuckled to himself as she twisted about, face screwed up in ecstasy. She was always so happy to play the tease knowing he would pay her back tenfold when he finally got his hands on her, and honestly, she would have it no other way.

He licked and sucked, her body opening itself up more and more to his relentless teasing, spots staring to dance in her vision. Cursing the untiring muscles in his mouth, Casey squirmed and panted as he flicked his tongue unceasingly against her aching clit, heat coiling up inside like a serpent about to strike out.

"Dennis, stop!" 

The instructions took him by surprise but he obeyed immediately, and he craned his neck up to look at her with concern. "Is something wrong?"

"No." She gasped, barely able to make out words through her lightheadedness. "No, it's perfect. I want...." She pulled at his hair again, pulling him up to her face so she could kiss him, groaning into his mouth. "You feel so good."

He understood immediately; she wanted to use him as her toy as long as possible, draw the pleasure out indefinitely. Fine by him.

He stood up behind her and cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between gentle fingertips as she hissed, buckling against his touch. "So sensitive. I bet I could make you come right this minute, couldn't I? I can do anything I want to you, and you have to sit there and take it." 

The only response he received was a whimper and a sigh, and he crouched at her side to gently grasp her chin so that she was looking straight into the mirror. "I'm going to fuck you with my fingers, and you're going to watch."

Casey shuddered, insides clenching, unable to stand one more second of going untouched by him.

Dennis licked his lips, trailing feather light fingertips down her naked form, watching her shiver in delight. He briefly let them rest above her entrance, allowing anticipation to sing loudly through her nerves. Before she could become too anxious, he sank a finger inside her, and felt a small twinge of satisfaction at what he found.

"So wet and willing for me. You want this bad, don't you?" Another finger joined the first and he began pushing in and out, holding her head still, though the effort soon proved unnecessary. Casey couldn't tear her eyes away from the mirror's reflection, watching their passion play out before her eyes.

"Does it feel as good as it looks?" he growled, and she spasmed around his fingers in response. "I'm going to keep going until you explode into tiny little pieces. And then I'm going to start all over again." 

Casey didn't understand why, but watching him slide his fingers in and out of her made her orgasm build that much faster. "Dennis...fuck. You feel so, so good. Please, don't stop." 

"Stop? I'm just getting started."

Despite his words, he briefly paused the penetration and instead rotated his fingers upwards, searching for the spot he knew would have her screaming his name in no time. As soon as he found it she shuddered and cursed, and he began rubbing like a fiend, getting harder and harder as she thrashed about and dug her nails into his skin, calling on him and God in the same breath. Her reaction spurred him on and he painfully scrubbed his tongue over his teeth, getting off on the fact that he was driving her wild.

When her thighs suddenly clenched around his arm with a death grip he knew she was coming, and he grunted as her hold on his hair tightened reflexively, sending tingles down his spine. He refused to let up, pressing on her g-spot as her orgasm continued on unabated.

When she came down from her high, she sighed in contentment, exhausted and spent. She reached out to hold her lover and he kissed her hungrily before leaning down to untie her feet, watching with some amusement as they still reflexively twitched from the flood of hormones in her bloodstream. Anticipating his turn to be bound and teased, a rare mischievous thought was given permission to gestate. Without warning, he began tickling her toes, savoring the laughter bubbling up from her throat.

She squeaked and huffed, trying to stifle the giggles. "Ok, that's enough!"

"...I don't think so."

Feet twisted in their bonds, and Casey was suddenly regretting letting him tie her down. "You're very bad at this whole 'submissive' thing," she choked out, smacking him in retaliation.

"Just giving you a little motivation for when the roles are reversed and you have the upper hand."

He grabbed her wrists with one hand and began working his way up her body with the other, taking the time to squeeze her knees and inner thighs. When he started tickling the apex of her leg she begged for mercy, writhing in hysterics. Remembering they hadn't predetermined a safe word, he let her go, having no inclination of abusing her trust. What she was giving was too precious to lose.

In an act of penance, he finally untied the rope and began massaging her feet with powerful stokes, rubbing away any lingering discomfort. For a few minutes Casey allowed him to indulge her, small groans of happiness escaping her as she melted further into the seat. If she had anything like this to look forward to with Kevin and Barry in the coming days, she thought she might actually implode from happiness.

Dennis continued to work on her feet silently, but a kiss to his forehead finally signaled her as ready to take their play to the bedroom. He looked up and the leather cuffs were dangling from her fingers, D-rings making the most pleasant sound as they knocked together. She wiggled her eyebrows. "So if I grok what you're saying, it's 'be merciless'?"

Now he was standing at his full height and towered over her, crossing his arms across the bulk of his naked chest. "Only if you think you can handle me, and I'm not sure I like your odds." To anyone else the display would be intimidating, but the way his mouth turned up at the corners gave the game away.

"Who are you kidding, Dennis? I think I've turned you into a bigger softie than Norma."

Now there was no hiding that smile, and for a moment Dennis felt overwhelmed with gratitude. He didn't deserve love, but love had searched him out and caught him regardless. Miracles were apparently a thing, and sometimes they happened to the most undeserving of people. He hoped he was becoming deserving though, even a little bit. For Casey's sake.

Picking Casey up from her chair, he buried his face in her hair before peppering her nose with kisses like the softie he _definitely_ was whenever she was around. "I don't think you know Norma all that well. I bet she could spend days in those cuffs without breaking."

"Oh my god, stop!"

"You ever read 'Gerald's Game'? That's actually about her."

"Dennis!"

As they made their way to the bedroom, the kitchen called out once again, pleading to be put in order. Dennis knew he could not ignore it a second time, there would be nothing else on his mind, even with his attention needed elsewhere. With a sigh, he gently set Casey to the ground and nudged her towards their bedroom.

"I'll be right in, just let me clean up. It's gonna...if I don't..." Rot, illness, infection, it all plagued his mind, and with the way it carried on you would think they lived in thirteenth century Europe. God, why did he have to be such a killjoy? "I'm sorry, Casey."

She smiled. There was no trace of pity in it, just understanding, and she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. "You wash, I'll start putting things away. It wont' take much time at all."

That's the moment he knew, then and there, that he would do whatever it took to keep her by his side for the rest of their lives. God help him, he understood it was selfish and not what he was created for, but he couldn't help it. Love showed him what he could not realize by himself: he was human, and he was far too gone.


	4. Thunderstruck (Casey/Samuel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, over a month and one update. I really wanted to keep up with this better, but it was not to be, despite my best efforts. I read other author's work, I get inspired, and then I sit down to write, I do, I edit, and it's like "....what even is this?" This goes on for a week or three, and here we are. 
> 
> Such is life though.
> 
> The_Mighty_Gamersaurs asked to see some Samuel action, and I thought he'd be a fun one to tackle. Sometimes I felt like I was writing about Casey getting busy with a Khajiit, but I just can't imagine that Samuel has that sort of problem with ~~Skooma~~ narcotics ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The alarm clock was particularly grating that morning and as Casey turned over to smack it silent, she became aware of the sound of raindrops hitting the rooftop. Had they been calling for rain that day? Despite the fact that she didn't feel ill, her brain was shivering, sloshing about her skull and making concentration a bit of an issue. She really couldn't remember much beyond getting tipsy with Kevin the night before, laughing and eating way too much junk food before stumbling into bed together. After a few half-hearted attempts at drunken sex, they had finally given in to sleep, which Casey had very much been enjoying until the obnoxious wake up call. 

The alarm went off a second time and she groaned, must have hit the snooze button by mistake. An ungraceful tug of its cord finally shut it up for good, although she knew Dennis would bitch about having to reset the clock once again, _obviously_ down to the exact second because anything less would be incorrect.

It was worth it.

Sighing gratefully as quiet now reigned, she snuggled back into bed, bumping up next to Kevin. He stirred, clearly also having been just rudely awoken. Really, it was Saturday! Which alter had set the damn thing for so early?

“Morning Kevin,” she yawned, wondering if he could be convinced to stay in bed a little longer. She only needed a few more hours, really. Five, tops. Maybe six if later on he could be convinced to get up and make lunch while she dozed.

“Kevin isn’t here, Samuel is in the light now.” Samuel's typically soft voice was hoarse from sleep, and he cleared his throat repeatedly, trying to coax his larynx into functioning. 

“Well, good morning Samuel. It's been a while.” She arched back into him, wordlessly asking to be held. If there was one thing rain was good for, it was an excuse to lazily cuddle in bed. She could hear him shifting over to his other side, and a strong arm wrapped around her waist as he pressed kisses against her neck.

“Unfortunately he is quite awake now." There was another attempt at clearing his throat, but this time it seemed more hesitant, and she reassuringly nestled further into his body. "He was wondering if Casey might... _indulge_ his time in the light.” 

Ah, right to the point. Despite his odd manner of speaking, Samuel was ever blunt with his thoughts. Casey had once asked Barry what Samuel’s “deal” was, so to speak, but Barry just shrugged. “No one is really sure, doll. Orwell theorizes it’s an extreme form of disassociation. If Samuel can refer to himself like ya would another person, it helps put distance between himself and the abuse he suffered.”

Like most things in Kevin’s life, it was unbearably tragic, and sometimes Casey couldn’t help but let her mind wonder at what exactly the quiet man had been through.

Fortunately aside from his illeism, Samuel was a pretty well adjusted person, and whatever his demons, they didn’t seem to torment him habitually like some of the other alters. It also seemed to lend to an air of drama about him that otherwise wouldn't be there; his speech came off like a narration, and anything from going to a car wash to cooking soup sounded more like the inside of a Dean Koontz novel than day to day life. Although truthfully, Koontz had _nothing_ on the Beast.

She flipped around to face him, bringing her hands up to his naked chest. _He_ might have been awake, but sleep was still calling to her. She hoped he had something tempting up his sleeve. “What did you have in mind?”

The stormy weather didn't provide much light through the blinds, but even in the dimness of the room his eyes seemed to glow. Once Orwell had cajoled Casey into an evening of documentaries, the last one focusing on the Kauai Maelstrom, one of the deadliest whirlpools in the world. She had sat entranced by the imagery of cobalt water cascading into a fathomless abyss, and oftentimes felt that looking into Kevin's eyes had the similar effect-hypnotized by crystalline blue until you found yourself completely sucked in. He didn't know it, but Samuel had her right where he wanted her. 

Brushing his knuckles softly over a cheek, he licked his lips unconsciously, appreciatively. “You're so gorgeous, even first thing in the morning. It's overwhelming. Can he show you how you're making him feel?” Their legs were tangled up together and Casey could already sense how she was making him feel, it was pressed right up against her thigh. She decided that she had every intention of indulging him, but he was going to have to _work_ for it.

"I don't know, I kind of just wanted to cuddle and go back to sleep..."

The light in her eyes conveyed she was just teasing, and Samuel bit his lower lip in wonder. God, she was beautiful, and having to share with multiple other alters could be a very time consuming affair. He had to have her _now_. "Well, he's always at your disposal. Fuck him back to sleep and you can use his broad, strong body as a pillow all day if you'd like."

She giggled as he took her hand and rubbed it up and down his chest, waggling his eyebrows as he did so. Sometimes it astounded her how carefree some of the alters were in the face of the suffering they had experienced in life. While generally soft spoken, Samuel often had a silly streak that could rival Barry or Jade's.

Sensing her amenability, Samuel moved in for a kiss, but Casey dodged, screwing her mouth up. "Kevin and I drank all night, my morning breath is going to be terrible."

The bed shook slightly as he laughed, astounded at her self-consciousness. "He spends too much time away from the light to give a shit. Relax, love, and he'll do all the work, make you feel amazing. He's certainly got the energy for it." His own breath smelled of Malbec, and she wanted to lick the inside of his mouth.

Still feeling a bit self-conscious, she closed her eyes and listened to the tinny sound of rain meeting rooftop above them, her hands exploring the angles of his torso, enjoying how he pushed back into her as she canted her hips towards him. "I want to hear more about how good you're going to make me feel."

“He's going to find all the spots that make you weak. Every. Single. One.” His tongue flicked out to lick along the sensitive skin of her collarbone before taking an earlobe into his mouth, biting gently. "He’ll start slow, teasing the parts of you still unused to his touch.”

Casey squirmed, mind already in overdrive. "Don't leave me in suspense. Where are you starting?"

"Here."

He flipped her onto her stomach for easier access to her back. Dipping his head down he let his lips just barely caress the skin between her shoulder blades, his hot breath warming the goosebumps that were breaking out everywhere. Kisses followed a path up and down her spine, hitting woefully underutilized erogenous zones. Casey arched her back, rising up to meet his mouth, already whining with pleasure. Samuel was making a very good case for not going back to sleep.

“He wants to feel you wet on his fingers…but he can be patient. It’s best not to rush. Maybe an all day marathon, it’s not as if you're going anywhere, right?” As if to punctuate his meaning, lightning flashed as the rain outside became a deluge, pounding a rhythm out on the west side of their house, and she could feel his smirk on her skin. “Yeah, he likes that idea.”

There was a crack of thunder loud enough to rattle the house, the lamp by their bedside shaking in protest. Storms, like most things in nature, were very much something Casey treasured, if only because they reminded her of her father. Unfortunately this one sounded a little too close, and she begrudgingly wondered if this meant they would have to run outside and save the chair cushions on the patio. Norma would be very unhappy to see her beloved decor blown away due to negligence, and Casey was in no mood for a lecture.

Samuel seemed to read her mind and placed a warm hand on her hip, coaxing her to remain by his side. “Stay. Everything on the porch has to be soaked already."

"But-"

"You can blame him if Dennis or Norma get upset. They know what storms mean to Samuel."

That sounded ominous, and she pulled back from his hand slightly. "What do they mean to you?" 

He leaned towards her conspiratorially, as though about to reveal a secret. "When Kevin was little, Samuel would hide them from Kevin's mother. He was very good at hiding, but never good enough to escape her for long." He paused for a minute, reliving the memories with a grimace. "The sounds of furniture being pulled across the ground, piece by piece, as she dismantled their hiding places…it always reminded Samuel of thunder. He was scared of rain for the longest time.”

Most of the alters had some horrific story about their relationship with Penelope, and Samuel apparently was no exception.

“I’m…so sorry.” She traced the lines of his face, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, finding comfort in it. They remained there for a moment or two before the thunder sounded off again. Samuel's eyes snapped open, and a playful smile graced his features, somehow much more delicate than many of the Others.

“Don’t be sorry, there is always good along with the bad. For instance, now he can build a wicked fort.”

Suddenly everything darkened, and Casey blinked upwards as Samuel loomed over her, throwing the duvet over the headboard, cocooning them in bed. He leaned down to kiss her, and the way his face softened when he stared at her made her throat squeeze. How had he gone through so much and yet remained so gentle? She placed her palms on his chest, could feel his heart hammering in anticipation. “Think one of your forts can withstand a morning of us fooling around in it?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

With a short pull, he dropped the blanket and rolled them over so Casey's back was flush to his chest, his erection poking at her rear. Muscular hands slid from her arm down to her hips and then at the waistband of her pants. Fingers found themselves under the band, but waited patiently for consent before yanking them down. The Others were always so tuned in to her actual desires and feelings that it constantly managed to surprise her, even after living with them for years. The wounds her uncle left behind ran far deeper than she could put into words, but the patient care of partners like Samuel helped in more ways than one.

Lifting her hips, Casey quickly helped him disrobe her and then waited for him to do the same. A few muttered curses were vocalized as he struggled with getting his pants off, trying to avoid kicking her or the sheets off the bed.

Turning around, she intended to offer her assistance, but Samuel gently pushed her back down before rubbing her lower back. "What did he say?" he asked, tsking with a shake of his head. " _You_ relax."

Casey was in no position to argue. Guided by groans of relief, he focused on the tight band of muscles across her upper glutes, her body releasing its tension. Knotted muscle gave way to him, skin reddening as blood began to bring relief to oxygen starved tissue. If gods could touch mortals, Casey knew that this is what it would feel like, liquid pleasure cascading through her limbs. Her whimpers of enjoyment were a turn on for Samuel, but his efforts were having the opposite effect on Casey and she struggled not to yawn.

"You're too good at this, you're putting me to sleep," she warned, stretching out her now newly relaxed lower body.

"So sleep if you can, he won't stop you. Not intentionally at least." The bed shifted under them as Samuel sat up, resting back on an elbow. "His hand has other ideas, though." 

Soft fingertips began stroking her back, feather light, and Casey inhaled sharply, startled at the new sensation. In the wake of the massage the feeling was almost unnoticeable, aside from the electric prickling that followed wherever he touched. Moving from upper back to side, Samuel kept gently brushing her skin, sensitizing it to further stimulation. When the initial shock was over, it even began to feel good, her nerves realizing that they were being called upon to react. His hand trailed lower and found itself between her legs, and she writhed under his touch as he pleasured her. Soon fingers would not be enough to satisfy, but the buildup was exquisite.

After a few minutes, when he was convinced that she would now welcome it, Samuel stopped and spooned closer. Cupping a hand underneath her outer thigh, he coaxed it up towards her chest, having her hold it there. She grumbled at the rather awkward position until he slid inside from behind, and then her complaints turned to gasps.

When he gently began rocking his hips, Casey could feel her eyes roll back up into her head. It was just the barest movement, but he moved against her walls perfectly, building a maelstrom of something hot and tingling within. A forearm reached around and stroked at the delicate skin of her breasts before turning his attention to her nipples. Soon the sound of rainfall was drowned out by their moans and the occasional creaking of the mattress, and as Casey could not see her lover's face, she closed her eyes and zeroed in on this melody of intimacy like her life depended on it. This spontaneous meditation heightened her other senses and she bore down on his cock, tearing another round of curses from his mouth. 

“God, he _loves_ the feeling of you clenching around him. How can you be encouraged to do that more?” His voice was husky, this time with lust instead of sleep. Fingers traveled from her hips to the back of her head as he tugged at the roots of her hair. “Where else can you be touched that will feel good?"

"Everywhere, please,” she panted, needing him to scour the desire from her body. “Just...touch me everywhere.”

His hands were back on her hip bone, holding her down tightly as he began his gentle thrusting once more. She hugged her thigh even tighter, trying to deepen the angle, but he would not deviate from that steady, delicious pace. Samuel was determined to run a marathon, not a sprint, and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Oh please, please,” she begged, but instead of moving faster his hand snaked down and found her clit again, his skillful teasing matching the rocking of his pelvis. 

He was trying to kill her. That had to be it, it was the only explanation Casey could come up with as her body slowly caught on fire, and he just kept on goddamn _touching_ her, making it hotter and hotter. Death by spontaneous combustion.

"Doesn't it feel good?" He was bitting lightly at the back of her neck now, making her shudder.

"Yes! You fuck me so, so good. I'm so close." Was he close too, or was he going to keep this up all morning? "God, _please_ make me come, you're driving me crazy!" 

Those were magic words for even the most stalwart of partners. Her blatant need sent trembles throughout his body, and he took a few seconds to compose himself before setting a pace that would finish them off.

Nestling his outer thigh between Casey's own, he heard her gasp as he moved even deeper and began thrusting with purpose. The blankets she clutched at began to bunch up in front of her as he drove her body forward, but primal lust gave her a newfound strength, doing _anything_ to keep still so she could continue to feel him stroking all the right places inside of her.

When the orgasm came, the power of it was almost surprising, given the relaxing position they were engaged in. The aftershocks were so strong she hadn't even noticed that Samuel had reached his own peak; not until he pulled out carefully, trying not to make too much of a mess on the freshly laundered linen.

Before she could protest, he was cleaning the both of them up with tissues from the bedside, a silly little grin plastered on his face. He surely hadn't entered the light that morning expecting it to be so pleasant, but there would be no complaints from him.

Now Casey was truly exhausted. Rolling onto all fours, she did a brief cat cow stretch before yawning widely and collapsing back down onto their goose down pillows. Heavenly. She was so pleased that Barry had managed to talk Dennis into the purchase, arguing that since they all worked hard, surely they were entitled to some small luxuries? Oh, and this _was_ luxurious. Another yawn escaped her, and she cuddled deeper into the mattress.

"That yawn is not an indictment of performance, is it?" A chuckle rumbled out of Samuel, and she was so relaxed she could feel the vibration in every part of her body.

"No, it just means you managed to wear me out." She could feel his chest expanding against her, puffed out in mock pride, and rolled her eyes affectionately. "And just FYI, you better not be planning on going anywhere. If I recall, you promised me your services as a body pillow allllllll day long."

She was suddenly aware of the sensation of being cradled, Samuel wrapping his body around her as if a blanket. "He's here for as long as you want him to stay. Always." A gentle kiss to the back of her head expanded the last amount of his energy, and he settled next to her with a sigh.

For a while the only sounds in the room was their breathing and the occasional crack of thunder outside as nature raged on. But sleep was not coming easy to Casey, and she purposely bumped a foot into Samuel, seeing if he was still awake. He tightened his arm drapped around her waist in response, so she looked over her shoulder. “Do storms still bother you?”

Something hitched in his throat, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it seemed to be a sound of amusement, surprising her. “No. Thunder never ended up hurting him. It seemed a waste of energy to remain frightened of something that meant him no ill will, not when there are so many other things to be wary of.”

What a truly sad, truly accurate observation. Casey nestled up under his chin, trying to find some comfort there. "My uncle used to laugh at me when I would cry for my dad during thunderstorms. It doesn't make sense, does it? Even the scariest forces of nature can be kinder to us than the people that were supposed to take care of us."

Samuel choked back a sudden wellspring of emotion, once again marveling at the fact that they had found a friend and partner who understood what they had been through. Making her depressed just wouldn't do though, this was terrible bedroom talk.

"Samuel stopped trying to make sense of it after he met you. He finally realized that a lot about life doesn't make sense, certainly not the bad things. But sometimes the good things too. You know, like somehow ending up as someone's body pillow." He nipped at her neck again, eliciting a surprised gasp, then a giggle. He laughed along with her, smiling as he took her in his arms. "If it is all nonsensical anyway, he's just glad that there's some good things to go along with the not-so-good."

"That's...actually a really pragmatic way to look at it."

"He tries."

She could tell he was already half asleep, matching her own enervation, breath slowing and coming in and out via steady waves. A stray thought managed to squirm its way in through the haze of sleep overtaking her, and a little laugh escaped at the absurdity of it.

"Hey Samuel?"

"Hmm?"

"How mad do you think Norma would be if we took her cushions, made a fort, and had sex inside of it?"

He immediately sat up to fix her with a heady stare, all traces of tiredness gone. A sly grin broke out, and Casey couldn't help but mirror it.

Neither ended up going back to sleep that morning. 


	5. I Won't Let You Fall Apart (Casey/Barry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth on the plot for this about a million times before finally settling on an idea. I really have been trying to tailor scenarios based on each alter's personality-Orwell as adorably clueless, feral passion with the Beast, sexual pleasure as a "project" for Dennis, and of course sweet Samuel and his rainy day distractions. I figured Barry would do wonderfully as Casey's partner for a hurt/comfort chapter, because, you know, Barry. It's a bit more plot centric than previous entries, but I feel like that's almost a necessity for good h/c; this had to be a bit more emotion heavy. 
> 
> TW: for sexual abuse.

_She doesn't see her beauty  
She tries to get away  
Sometimes  
It's just that nothing seems worth saving  
I can't watch her slip away_

_"The Fragile"-Nine Inch Nails_

_Bear, I don’t know what to do. Mr. Mustain is insisting I work overtime tonight if I want the rest of my hours this week._

**_Um_ **

**_You told him you had plans, right?_ **

_I don’t think he cares._

Casey sniffed, willing herself not to cry. It would do no good, make her feel foolish, and if her boss caught her, he’d chew her out even more.

Why the hell couldn’t anything go her way this week? First her laptop had broken out of nowhere, the current painting being worked on was a disaster, and there was a weird pain in her right foot that she constantly had to hide from Dennis so he didn't freak out and rush her to a doctor. Rekel had told her to hold on, Mars was in retrograde but would soon pass, and Casey laughed to herself. It obviously wasn't passing _today._

Her phone chimed, and she looked down at her Messages app.

**_Alright, I’ll be right there. I'll talk to your boss, we’ll figure something out. You know people can't resist this face_**

She gave a little eye roll, but couldn't help but smile. Just then, the ogre cum Italian stereotype that was her boss, Mr. Mustain, came barging into the back, bellowing at the cashier out front for not keeping an eye on a pair of shifty looking teenagers before turning watery eyes to Casey.

“Casey! Get off the fucking phone before I throw it in the sink!”

Meekly, Casey acquiesced and shoved it into her back pocket, wondering just what Barry thought he could do to resolve this situation. She wasn’t sure there was anything he could say to make the other man understand that they had anniversary plans in place for WEEKS now, it was why she had specifically asked for an afternoon shift that day. Normally she worked evenings at the little pizza shop as the dinner hour could be hectic, but she had asked far enough in advance that the man had agreed, and she assumed that was that. Silly her.

If worst came to worst, she was positive Barry would just ask her to quit. Between his ridiculously popular Etsy shop and Dennis’s full time job, they easily made enough to cover their monthly expenses, but Casey refused to be uninvolved in their financial affairs. Even if she didn’t bring home much, it was still a matter of pride.

While waiting for Barry, she mindlessly went about her job, barely noticing the sting of soapy water infiltrating her cracked knuckles. Sometimes she would come home from work when Norma was in the light, and she would cluck and tut at the sight of her dry hands and spend time rubbing lotion into them gently. If Casey were unlucky, Norma would also force her to wear gloves to bed until the skin had healed fully. She had to admit it was transformative, but she had not seen Norma in quite some time, so recently the ritual had fallen by the wayside.

The bell on the front door chimed and her phone rumbled in her pocket, most likely announcing Barry’s arrival. She would say it was fast, but when it came to her, Barry did show a rare protective streak that could border on obsessive. 

“Casey?” she heard him call out, and the door to the kitchen opened once again. Mr. Mustain was back, glowering at her.

“Your fruity boyfriend is looking for you, Cooke. Telling you to put the phone away wasn't an invitation to have him come and visit.”

Through the doorway she could see Barry standing there, irritation passing over his face before he composed himself and stepped towards the counter. “Actually, I was looking for you." He held out a hand in friendly greeting. "Mr. Mustain, right?" 

The older man gave Barry a once over before rubbing greasy hands on his jeans and shaking his hand. Despite the mockery, he was _very_ aware of Barry's size and wasn't willing to anger him in front of customers and get an ass kicking. Bad business, that.

Luckily for him, he was probably dealing with the most easygoing person in a fifty mile radius. For now. Barry summoned one of his most disarming smiles while motioning Casey over to his side. "Just came to pick Casey up since we've got a big night ahead of us, but it sounds like there was a little confusion regarding her schedule. We've got dinner reservations at _Beast_ in north Portland. Ever been?"

Casey's mouth dropped open and he shot her a wink. The cheeky bastard. God did she love him.

Mr. Mustain was not impressed though. "I own a restaurant, what do I have to go to a competitor's for? You want dinner, have it here. Casey _does_ get a discount. "

He clearly thought he was being generous, so Barry tried to control his annoyance. "Thanks, but I think we're in the mood for French. So how can we work this out?"

"Cooke, your boyfriend clearly has a hearing problem, in addition to his other handicaps. I swear my sixteen year old owns that same scarf he's wearing."

He laughed while Barry’s eyes darkened, and Casey wasn’t sure if she was still looking at him or if Dennis had emerged. A strong hand rose up to wrap around the back of Mr. Mustain’s neck, not so subtly leading him to the back corner of the pizza shop where they proceeded to have a brief, very animated discussion.

It only took a few minutes, but Mr. Mustain finally walked away from the argument, coming over to Casey wearing a slightly ill expression. "You're good to go for the evening, just don't forget you're back to the evening shift tomorrow night."

"Yes, of course. What did, uh...thank you."

Quickly scrambling to Barry's side, she let him wrap an arm over her shoulder, pleased at her sudden turn of good fortune. As soon as they were out of earshot, she looked up at him, brown eyes sparkling. "Thanks for coming. What did you say? How the hell did you change his mind?" She grimaced slightly. "Did Dennis come out and make threats?"

Barry laughed, warm and relaxed, squeezing her tighter. "Nah, nothing like that. His wife happens to be a big client, and I know she would be _very_ disappointed to find out hubby had ruined our anniversary plans."

"Huh. How did I not know this?"

He shrugged, shivering a bit in the fall air. "I dunno. What I _do_ hope you know is that no matter the man, we've all got the same Achilles' heel."

"The love of your life?"

"I was gonna say, 'Whoever he's banging at the time', but sure."

"Barry!"

He laughed and broke out into an easy run as Casey moved to shove him, his teasing lifting her spirits as they took turns chasing each other about. He had this infuriating habit of moving just fast enough that she could almost catch up, but never quite close enough to grab him. She was having so much fun she barely registered what was going on around them until something caught her attention from the corner of her eye, and she stopped in her tracks, terrified.

A truck, the most inconspicuous type of vehicle in their rural town, drove past and for a moment she could have sworn that somehow John had gotten out of jail and had tracked her down. The details were uncannily similar to his own pickup, right down to the exact paint job- a 2015 lifted F150, a shade of royal blue ("not that azure blue, that's for fags," he had declared to Casey once. She was nearly bowled over he knew that azure was a color).

Barry finally caught on that his partner was no longer a giggly mess besides him, and he backtracked over, little puffs of air from his mouth trailing behind. "What's wrong? Are ya hurt?" A warm hand laid heavy on her shoulder, and she looked up to see his blue eyes filled with concern, slight color from the chill rising on his cheeks.

She looked away, couldn't meet his eyes, ashamed of her wild concerns, ashamed of the tears threatening to spill over, the panic welling up inside. "Is it crazy to think that somehow Uncle John found us?"

He pulled her close, eyes darting around for an unseen enemy. "What are ya talking about? Did you see him?"

"No, I..." she trembled in his arms, terrified and partially embarrassed. "I just saw a truck that looked like the one he used to drive. I know it's stupid, but I thought that maybe...."

Barry snorted angrily, but she knew the anger wasn't directed at her. "That's not stupid baby girl, but I don't think they're letting that fucker out of jail anytime soon. And even if they did, he's _never_ gonna find us. I swear." His eyes swept down to look at her and they softened considerably. "Come on, you'll feel so much better when we're at home."

He moved to keep walking, but Casey was frozen in place and he sighed, trying again. "You're safe sweetheart, he ain't here. We're gonna go home and have a good time, aight?"

Reluctantly, Casey allowed him to lead them forward, his arm never leaving her side. He tried to keep her distracted with an amusing story about Hedwig recently discovering the Google Pay AND Google Play apps on his phone (Dennis did not find this nearly as funny), but it was clear her mind was somewhere else. 

As soon as they stepped foot inside their front door, Casey turned to look at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, I know this is a really shitty thing to do, considering... but...I don’t think I’m really in the mood to go out anymore.”

That didn't seem to surprise him. She had stopped shaking, but the color was still missing from her skin, exhaustion painting her features. He smiled gently, tapping her nose. “I gotcha. I need ya to do something else for me, then.”

Casey nodded weakly.

“Go take a hot bath, and I am going to take care of some things out here, aight?”

“But-”

“Uh uh, no ‘buts’, baby girl. Go be good to yourself, I'll be here when you're ready." 

In truth, a bath sounded incredible, and this was the only convincing she needed. Trudging upstairs, she instantly made her way to the master bath and turned on the water, waiting for it to heat to a pleasing temperature before sliding in. Feeling indulgent, she even broke out the bath bombs and watched as the steaming water turned purple and blue beneath her.

After twenty minutes of soaking, she had to admit she felt a lot better-still gross, but it was more of an internal grit, and she didn’t think that was going anywhere anytime soon. With some reluctance, she got out and toweled off, knowing she shouldn't keep Barry waiting too long.

Stopping in her room for clothing, she looked forlornly at the dress hanging in her closet. Barry had made it just for tonight, but the idea of putting on anything other than yoga pants and a sweater made her blanch. It was the least she could do for him, though.

As she moved to take it from the hanger, a little stick-it note fluttered down by her feet, and she picked it up, confused.

_Don’t worry about it, babe. Some other time._

She choked back a sob, willing herself not to cry for the second time that day. Sometimes he could be a pain in the ass, but god did that man know her inside and out. 

Instead of the dress, she tossed on the softest, most comfortable articles of clothing she owned, assuming she and Barry would move their plans to another evening. Cold cuts and a night spent cuddled on the couch was currently more her speed.

She came out of her room feeling a mess but padded down the stairs to the living room, hoping Barry wasn't too let down by the change in plans, especially when he went through all the trouble of saving her from a furious boss.

When she got to the living room, all of her concerns and insecurities vanished when he looked at her, and with such loving eyes that she couldn’t help but wonder if she was crazy or if he was.

Standing up, he held out his arms for a hug, and she happily obliged. “How was your bath?” he whispered sweetly, brushing damp hair back from her face.

"I feel a lot better now, thanks."

"That's what I wanted to hear! By bedtime, you'll be back to your old self."

Casey wasn't sure how true that was, but he sounded so convinced she couldn't help but hope. “You’re too good to me, Bear. I really do feel terrible about canceling on you last minute. When did you want to reschedule? Maybe next weekend?”

He looked at her, genuinely puzzled. “Reschedule what?”

“Our anniversary plans.”

“No need baby doll, I got ya covered.” In one fluid motion he bowed low, offering his hand. “While you were relaxing, I took the liberty of working some magic." Tugging gently, he led her to the den door and she made a face of bewilderment, but he only winked. "Close your eyes."

She cocked a hip, giving him a look, so without warning he walked behind her and placed warm hands over her eyes. "Come on, I know ya can close 'em. You do it all the time when I'm trying to get ya to watch _Project Runway_."

"I can't stand watching grown men be bitchy, what can I say?"

Still, she closed them as asked, waving his hands away and allowing him to lead her through the door. She made her way forward the best she could with her vision obscured, but only after a few steps did her feet get tangled up on the (fluffy?) ground and tripped. Instead of catching her, Barry guided the fall, and they both landed on something terribly soft and comfortable, his chuckle low and warm against her chest.

“Alright pretty lady, here we are. You can look.”

Casey glanced around and gasped when she saw what had been waiting for her, the room was a delight. The little den had been transformed, no longer Orwell’s makeshift study, but a cozy getaway for the pair. It was dark save for numerous paper lanterns Barry had placed along the bookshelves, and the floor was a mass of fleece blankets and pillows. At some point the flat screen had been dragged into the room and set up for a movie, and plates of fruit and wine glasses were set out. It looked so inviting that Casey immediately sank further down into the blankets, clutching at one of the pillows appreciatively. She understood that it was all for her sake, Barry would have much rather spent the night celebrating somewhere much louder and public.

"Oh Bear..."

"You like it?"

"I love it."

“Afraid I didn’t have much time to salvage dinner, but according to the back of the frozen pizza box I found in the freezer, it tastes just as good as delivery.”

She laughed, the stress of the day melting away in the face of his utter and complete care. Encouraged by her smile, Barry pulled out some wine and poured them each enough to get tipsy before dinner. They had so much fun talking and joking between themselves that by the time Barry remembered he had forgotten to turn the oven on, Casey was over the idea of an entire meal, already filled up on wine and strawberries.

Barry grinned at her wickedly. "That may be fine for you, but there's something I'd enjoy eating right now."

Without warning, he grabbed one of her calves and pulled her closer as she squealed and laughed in protest. Within seconds her lower garments had been discarded and her thighs were wrapped around his ears as he indulged in the feast he had been waiting for all evening. Casey had been happy to discover long ago that his attentive, detail oriented personality extended to the bedroom, and he was in top form tonight.

Then _it_ happened. It was the worst timing too, her lower body in the process of short circuiting with bliss, but it came up all the same. She didn't know how exactly-maybe it was just the sounds of male pleasure that shook the thoughts loose, but once again Uncle John demanded her attention. He scratched at the back of her skull, pressing up into her brain matter, that organ they say is responsible for the best sex. Or in this case, maybe not.

In a moment of clarity, she glanced between her legs and saw blue eyes shining back at her, amused and probably wondering why she had such a look of profound consternation when she should be writhing into the ground.

"Guess I'm not doing my job right," Barry piped up, and Casey blushed, feeling she was doing him a disservice. 

"No, I'm sorry. It's just been a day, you know? Haven't had much time to decompress yet."

"Want me to stop?" He gave her another long, slow lick, as though daring her to say "yes". Upset as she was, Casey certainly wasn't in such a state of mind to deny herself _this_ pleasure.

"No, please don't. Do you think you could...maybe play with my nipples a little?" Maybe that would get her in the mood faster. In a twisted bit of mercy, John rarely touched her there, given she was too young to have even gone through puberty when they started their "games". Sometimes it felt safer, being touched above her waist.

Barry pulled himself up her body with a dramatic sigh, as though asked to do the dishes or mow the lawn. "The things I do for love," he teased, helping to remove her shirt. "Next thing ya know, you'll be asking me to stick my dick in ya."

She rolled her eyes and he tickled her briefly, treasuring the laughter that bubbled out of her before gazing down with such love it made her heart seize, his eyes smoldering as flames leapt down from his irises and licked at her skin. "Now, where should I start first?"

* * *

Her whimpers woke him from a light sleep, too full of nervous excitement to rest deeply. Still groggy, Barry groped in the darkness for his phone, trying not to panic at the distress in her voice.

“Babe?” His fingers finally curled around the hard black case and he swiped the screen, illuminating the room with a dull blue light. He still wasn’t sure if he had actually heard her crying or if it was just the old house settling.

“Bear.” Casey’s voice was monotone, sending chills down his back. She sounded ill.

He sat up now, all traces of sleep gone from his head. Instinctively he reached out with the back of his hand to touch her forehead, feeling for fever. Her skin was clammy, a thin sheen of sweat covering her face, but didn’t seem feverish.

“What’s wrong, Case?”

“Just a night terror. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Barry’s eyes widened. “What are you apologizing for? Come here, baby girl.”

Strong arms went fishing into the pile of blankets acting as Casey’s makeshift fortress and he pulled her back out of them, holding her close to his chest. His threadbare cotton shirt rubbed against her cheek and the dam broke, tears pouring down her face. She cried while Barry held her, for no particular reason other than that the tears came. Warm hands cupped her face and wiped them away, but otherwise he remained steady and solid as she tried to lose herself in his form, tried to disappear from the world for a while. “Let go, it’s ok. You’re ok,” he whispered, trying to both soothe and allow the feelings to come as they may.

Finally, feeling drained, Casey wiped at her tears, eyes aching from the strain. She settled into Barry, exhausted. “I haven’t had a nightmare in months, what’s going on?”

“It happens.”

“But tonight was so perfect.”

He hugged her tighter, not taking it personally. “Trauma really doesn’t play by any set of rules. Do ya wanna talk about it?” His thumbs were gently rubbing her shoulders, the site of so many ugly little scars. He didn’t seem to notice them anymore, but to Casey they still burned.

“It wasn’t even about my uncle though.”

“No?”

“I don’t think so? I mean, there was a man but he looked nothing like John, but I knew he wanted to hurt me all the same and I was trapped between him and-“

“Hey, hey,” Barry interjected, trying to prevent her from psyching herself out further. “I’m here, I won’t let anyone hurt you. _Anyone_ , ya got it?” His arms tightened and he pulled her fully onto his lap, the stubble on his face scratching at her skin. “You’re safe Casey.”

Knowing you were safe and actually believing it were two different things. Knowing often did little to assuage emotion, especially emotion that ran rampant like fear.

Barry kept talking, trying to will her terror away. “Don’t think…just feel. Us. Me.” His arms were warm about her body, biceps sturdy and strong as he held on. “Relax. You have nothing to worry about, I’m going to protect ya. It’s safe to sleep.”

“I don’t think I _can_ go back to sleep.”

“Alright. How can I help, then?”

 _How can I help?_ It washis eternal refrain, but as far as Casey understood, he meant it each and every time. Too bad she was so pathetic she couldn't even tell him what would make it better (nothing). “I don’t even know anymore.”

He murmured in sympathy, and they sat entwined together until she stopped shivering like a frightened rabbit. Barry lifted her off himself gently, placing her down like she might break if he were too rough. “I’m gonna grab us something warm to drink, and we’re gonna sit here and watch something silly, ok?”

Rapidly her arm shot out, grabbing onto his wrist. "Please don't...go anywhere."

He searched her face for a moment, then without further commentary sat back down, taking her in his arms once again. Sometimes she hated how small she felt next to him, next to the Others, but tonight that feeling was one of the few things she could hold on to: he was easily big enough to act as her shelter.

“Ya know, I used to dream I’d be alone in our old house with Kevin’s mother," he began, and she looked up at him curiously. "And I mean, _completely_ alone. No Dennis, no Kevin, no….no one. Alone, and I always knew the beat down was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. That was the worst part, I think. Expectation.” He blinked slowly, and Casey could see tears evaporating on his lashes just as fast as they had come. "Anticipating pain can hurt just as much as actually enduring it."

She touched his cheek gently, sorrowfully. “I get that.”

“I suppose that’s what it was like for you, hmm? Alone, no one there to save ya.” Barry tightened his grip, like he could pull her into his body and shield her so she’d never be hurt again. “God, you are such a strong person.”

Was that a compliment? _Was_ she a strong person? There was a part of her still afraid, like if she acknowledged his words, the universe would bring John back into her life just to test her.

The idea triggered something in her, and her mood turned foul before she even realized what was happening. Why her? How dare her piece of shit, sorry excuse for an uncle have the audacity to haunt her even now? Her mind was screaming, all rage and biting violence, and for a moment she imagined riding Barry hard, choking him as her fingers found their way into his mouth, suffocating. She hated that stupid smile, hated how he looked at her like everything was ok when it wasn’t. What did he know about this sort of trauma, what did he know of violation and abuse and...and...

Like a dream that abruptly ends, reality came crashing back down. Of course Barry understood what she was feeling, the man was born of suffering, how could she ever think otherwise? Even worse, they were supposed to be celebrating their _anniversary_ , what the fuck was wrong with her? What was this sudden bout of anger?

She shuddered, guilt replacing the hatred just as suddenly. “I’m…murderously angry, and I don’t understand why.”

“Sure ya do,” Barry murmured softly. “I’m willing to bet ya haven’t thought of your uncle this much in a while. It’s bound to bring up some unpleasant emotions.” Humming a bit, he stood up, reaching down for her. "I think I'm gonna show ya my favorite way to work out some rage."

* * *

The plate arched in the air like a frisbee and crashed into the tree trunk with a satisfying explosion, bits of plastic flying everywhere. Barry had to dodge to the left to avoid incoming shrapnel, and Casey grimaced.

“Shit, are you alright?” Despite her earlier rage, she had no intention of startling him, let alone hurting him.

He just laughed. “Quite an arm ya got there. Maybe we should move back a bit, hmm?”

When she woke up that morning, this was not how she imagined their date would go, but ultimately couldn't think of anything more suitable for her current mode. Barry had dragged her into the kitchen, gathering up a few plates and glasses that were probably ready to be replaced. Without a word he led her to the backyard and placed a plate in her hands, telling her to go nuts. It was surprisingly visceral and comforting at the same time.

They re-situated themselves and Casey picked up another plate, gingerly weighing it in her hands. “Dennis is gonna be pissed.” While Barry had selected older dishware, that didn't mean it wasn't still usable, and Dennis _hated_ waste.

A plate flew by her head, followed by another satisfying crack, and Barry tisked from behind her. “Nah, he’ll get it. That man understands anger, believe me.”

“What about you?”

“What do ya mean?”

“Why aren’t you bitter?”

“Oh doll, you have no idea.”

A coffee mug came crashing by, and this time his words seemed to lend the impact more violence. She finally released her own to follow after his, watching its destruction with some gratification before turning to him. “You don’t seem it.”

“Dr. Fletcher, baby girl. Believe it or not, I kept going back because she had some pretty good ideas, not because ‘I see a therapist bi-weekly’ sounds good in a Tinder bio.”

“Weird, that always worked for me. People were probably just scared off by that massive ego of yours.”

Without warning, Barry rushed forward and tackled her to the grass, and they grappled and wrestled for dominance until they were both sweaty, panting messes. Casey pawed at his chest, laughing lightly. “I don’t see why you had me take such a nice bath if you were just planning on manhandling me and getting us all dirty.”

Barry wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll show ya manhandling and dirty.”

Casey tried not to let him see her blush; even now he managed to occasionally get a rise out of her. “So you still haven’t told me how Dr. Fletcher helped you.”

Barry hopped up to his feet, reaching back down to help her up. “Well...she claimed that memories only hurt because most people treat the past like it’s real, but it isn’t; ‘Illusion’ was the word she used. Illusions can look scary, but they don’t have real power to hurt us. The only things that can help or hurt us exist in the present moment.” He shrugged, feeling a bit awkward and sure he was butchering the good doctor’s explanation. “She taught me to focus on the present, to understand that was the only thing dictating the direction of my...of our lives."

“That sounds….”

“Kinda ridiculous, right? I know, I thought the same thing, but once I focused on getting my thoughts under control, the dreams just kind of stopped.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Barry sighed, slightly distressed he couldn’t find the right words to comfort her. Instead, he picked her up and walked them back inside, the mess of glass and plastic could wait until she fell asleep again. “Will ya try something for me?”

She didn’t respond, just nodded against his chest. Good enough.

“What do you hear right now? At this very second?”

The question caught Casey off guard for a brief moment before she stilled, listening intently. “Um…there’s a little bit of wind outside, it’s making that noise that drives Dennis crazy.” Some of the shingles on the roof had been in the process of tearing off, shuddering against the house as the wind blew over them. No matter how many times Dennis tried to fix the issue, it persisted, always another one needing replacement. The imagery made Casey smile a little. “And I can hear your heart beating.”

“What are you feeling? Not in your head, but your body?” Bringing one of her palms to his mouth, he kissed her gently, demonstrating what he wanted her to pay attention to.

"I feel your heartbeat. I feel your body heat and it's making my stomach flutter."

He smiled at this and they went sense by sense, Casey describing everything that was in her awareness until all thoughts of nightmares were gone. Most of all, however, she became hyper aware of the body she was cradled against, suddenly needing far more than the gentle impressions of touch and taste that he was offering her.

"Bear, I need you."

He nuzzled her, stroking her hair softly. "I'm right here, baby girl. Always."

"No. I _need_ you." Her eyes burned holes into his own, desire replacing uncertainty. "All I want to see, taste, hear, smell...is you. I only want to feel you." Allowing her hands to reach under his shirt, her fingers grazed his chest and his breath hitched.

"I try and go zen and instead ya get horny. I must be pretty bad at this," he joked, voice straining as he tried to control himself. This was a weird turnaround and he wasn't sure how he felt at the moment.

Her fingers trailed lower, to the waistband of his pants, and he brought them into the bedroom as if on autopilot, thoughts trying to outrace the blood going straight to his cock.

Setting her down on the bed gently, he sat next to her, taking her hands in his much larger ones and staring at her with an intensity he was not known for. “Kevin was suicidal for so long, and I was the one that cradled his broken heart, the one that carried him this far. I’ve carried them all this far, Casey. Now I’m holding you, and I’m not going anywhere. Ya don't owe me anything, I love you.”

She traced his lips softly, sad that he would think such things. “Bear. Please. Please trust me enough to believe that I'm speaking for myself. I'm not asking out of fear, I'm asking because I need this from you.”

Without another word he nodded, pulling his shirt up over his head and slipping out of his pants as she freed herself from her own clothing. He pushed her down onto the mattress and powerful legs cocooned themselves around her on either side. His arms pulled her close and she melted into him, awash in his heat and the steady trunk that was his body, but he pulled back again, needing more.

“No. Get out of your head. Look at me,” he ordered. His blue eyes were burning, and she could tell that he would actually rather not have things play out this way. Perhaps it went against everything he thought he knew. Barry understood comfort and he understood seduction, but those were not things to be mixed as one would a cocktail. But he would, for her.

Finally, his hips joined at hers as they became one; she let the weight of him bear down on her like a blanket. With the gentlest of touches he tickled the scars on her stomach and waist, willing laughter where there was once suffering. He pulled her flush to his chest, to his pounding heart, signifying companionship where there used to be loneliness. Flesh that was a mess of scar tissue was to be teased and titillated, until its very cells sighed in contentment and surrendered to his loving ministrations. This was his way, and if this was what she needed now, he gave willingly.

Soon every sense was commandeered by him, all she knew was security. His gait was slow, hips rocking in time with their breathing, she could feel his heartbeat up inside her ribs and he never tore his eyes from her own. Warmth and the steady sound of his panting quickly became her whole world. How she hated declarations of love while fucking, but her mind and mouth betrayed her and she swore those oaths of love and devotion as he pleasured her. He swallowed her words with his own mouth, kissing her as if this might be the last night of their lives.

Eventually her body succumbed to the affections he plied her with and her entire being went white hot, blank, at peace. Barry may have followed her over the edge but she couldn't tell, the shock waves and trembling throughout her being not ceasing until her body nearly gave out from exhaustion.

They slid under the covers, remaining silent, and it occurred to Casey that it was because for once there was nothing else to be said. Parts of her treacherous subconscious were already reaching into the dark for images of Uncle John, but kept coming back with pieces of Barry instead.

She fell asleep close to his chest, knowing that in the most jagged parts of herself, love had slipped into the cracks. The tapestry it made now told an entirely different story then the one from when it had first started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So currently I'm in the middle of the next two chapters-one is Casey/Barry/Dennis, the other is Casey/Kevin. The latter is a bit more romantic, the former, well... one of my absolute favorite flavors of smut is playful BDSM, which seems woefully underutilized in general. Enjoying control in the bedroom, and even pain, doesn't have to mean tears and angst (although I have no intention of yucking anyone's yum), but given we are dealing with victims of abuse here, I have little inclination to go hard; It's incredibly gentle as far as BDSM goes. 
> 
> ANYWAY, my point being I'm not sure which one to focus on next, so I wanted to see if anyone had preferences on what they wanted to read while we wait out this plague. If not, I'll just go with whichever strikes my mood first.
> 
> As an aside, I should find out today if I have a job to go back to thanks to said virus, so please cross your fingers for me that whatever the outcome, it's for the best.


	6. Bear Claw (Casey x Barry/Dennis)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey has an idea and gets what she asks for. Fun is had by all (sensory deprivation, bondage, sensation play, tickling, orgasm denial ahead)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find these stories get way more delayed than I would like. Sex can be written in the most inelegant of ways, and I try so hard not to make it mechanical and/or boring, but I leave it up to you to decide if I've succeeded. Needless to say, I would have had this out sooner if I weren't such a stickler about shit like that.
> 
> Anyway, that prompt list I posted in the summary? I went and knocked out a bunch of them. Some have been touched on before, but this chapter is like, the big one. And the worst/best part is that it mostly wasn’t even intentional, it just kind of came together this way. On that note, you may notice the glaring omission of flogging as it's something a lot of people enjoy and is pretty much the go-to for BDSM, but it made me feel uncomfortable due to our characters' histories of abuse. Please note, this isn't a moral judgment on my part, physical pain is a valid kink for anyone to enjoy/read/write about, no matter their past. Buuuutttt I don't think I'm the person to be writing those stories with these particular characters. I hope you find Dennis can still be a terribly imposing dominant, and Barry...well, Bear is around for the kicks, as usual.
> 
> Hope you find it just as enjoyable as they did!

It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. While _clearly_ fetish gear would top Pintrest’s image search for latex, in truth Barry was just looking for some inspiration for fall jackets.

He scanned the page with some disinterest, really, it all seemed to be too much, but then his eyes fell upon… _it_. A little smile graced his lips, and he flipped his sketchbook open to a new page and began drawing, already having a hard time keeping up with the stream of ideas flooding through him. The thing was actually kind of adorable if you squinted your eyes, and so aptly named. He anticipated taking a day or two to fully replicate his new creation, but that was fine, it had only been yesterday since Casey had opened up about her...desires.

She had approached him and Dennis, a little tremor in her voice, asking if they would ever consider sharing the light during their bedroom romps. She almost seemed afraid she would offend them, but the request was far less scandalous than she assumed. The System did not recognize or understand boundaries like most people would; in one body, experiencing sexual pleasure together could be as standard as having a meal. The only reason they hadn’t tried before was because they figured it would make her uncomfortable. Now that they understood that wasn't the case, Barry's gears had been turning.

"Dennis?" he asked aloud, knowing they were alone at the moment; Casey was out running errands. "Come here. Tell me what ya think about my new project." Usually Dennis wasn’t all that interested in Barry’s passion for clothing design, but Barry had a feeling he would very much appreciate this.

Turned out that initially Dennis was confused, but confusion quickly turned to respect when everything finally clicked into place. “It’s about time you put those sewing skills to good use,” he joked, but the friendly jab ran off Barry like rainwater. 

“Think she’ll like it?”

“Of that, I have no doubt. You artists are all freaky. Hell, I’m surprised it took you this long to get on board.”

Barry smiled wide, pleased with himself. “I'll work fast, then.”

It was so cute, the little blush she had worn as she stammered and tripped over her words. Surely she had to understand what would happen, combining Dennis’s appetites with Barry’s enthusiasm, but she asked anyway.

God, was she in for it now.

* * *

“Barry? Are you still working?”

Casey's voice rang out from the hallway, and Barry cocked his head, curious as to what she was up to. "Yeah, I'm in the living room, doll!” He was sketching, not paying anything else much mind. However, as soon as she entered the room and he looked up from his sketchbook, he was momentarily stunned into silence over the vision of loveliness in front if him.

Rarely did Casey enjoy dressing up, but recently he made a muslin mockup for a new design and had asked her to model so he could take notes on alterations. Now a tight, pale dress clung to her body, cut off at the thighs. The neckline plunged low and the straps of her heels rose high, and every part of Barry felt like he was burning up while looking at her.

"God damn baby girl, ya look good enough to eat. You have no business making that plain thing look so sexy.”

Casey tried to will the heat away from her cheeks, his words warming her. While all of her partners complimented her, Barry’s enthusiasm in his praise remained unrivaled. She twirled around awkwardly in her high heels so he could get a better look. “You should be thanking the dressmaker. He could make a garbage bag look good.”

“Oh, too true. Fortunately he has been so very blessed to be able to work with a living piece of art.” He got up and went to her, something in his eyes making her stomach do little flips. He moved closer, his tongue finding its way into her mouth, tasting her own. The kiss was dizzying, and when he pulled back they were both slightly out of breath, forehead to forehead, and he gazed lovingly into her eyes. “It’s times like this, baby doll, when I really just don’t know…”

“Don’t know what?”

“If I’d rather be fucking you or your clothes.”

“Bear!” She shoved him away and he laughed easily. "You're in a mood tonight, aren't you?"

Turns out, _now_ he was; there was no aphrodisiac quite like a gorgeous dress. He searched inwardly for Dennis. _Now?_

As Dennis surfaced, Barry could feel the lust roll off him, and it took the other man a few moments before he could find his voice without it cracking. _Now._

Wrapping his hands around her waist, Barry backed her up into a wall, trapping her against his body. He leaned down for another kiss, his blue eyes smiling nearly as wide as his lips. “You’re too good to me, sweetheart, but how about we postpone the fashion show for a bit? It’s our turn to be good to ya.”

“Our turn?”

Without warning, Dennis emerged, grabbing her wrists and holding them above her head. “Hello Casey. You have plans for the evening?” He had her pinned tighter than Barry had, and she found she couldn't move, excited and breathless.

“I…I did. I'd happily cancel them, though.” She stared right up at him despite the color rising on her cheeks. “Happily.”

Without warning Dennis picked her up bridal style and lead them to the bedroom. “Better cancel your plans for tomorrow too, don't count on getting much sleep tonight."

She laughed as he tossed her onto the bed, twisting her body around to face him. “Speaking of sleep, I'm surprised to see you out and about. Didn’t I wear you out enough _last_ night?”

Dennis smirked, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret that smart mouth of yours soon enough.” She watched him walk over to the closet and reach down for something that had been hidden away. When he turned back around, it was Barry smiling at her gently. He had a brightly colored box in his hands, and he handed it to her with an odd sort of reverence that almost bordered on shy.

“I made ya something.” It was wrapped in the prettiest paper Casey had ever seen, and she took it from him with delicate hands. "Dyed it myself," he announced, answering her unspoken question. "It was a lot of fun, I'll have to show you how sometime."

Running her fingers over the top, she seemed a bit in awe. "I almost don't want to open it, it's so pretty."

Barry beamed, but could feel Dennis growing more and more impatient, eager to get to _work_. "Well, ya better get to it soon, Dennis is about two seconds away from imploding."

A little growl escaped their throat, clearly Dennis, and Casey laughingly and carefully removed the paper before opening the box itself. Reaching inside, she picked up a soft leather glove with wicked steel tips placed at the end of the fingers. It looked like a torture implement from one of Orwell's reference books, and she looked up at Barry with a puzzled expression.

He grinned ear to ear. “I promise it’s not nearly as scary as it looks.”

Her eyes were pulled to the glove again, its frightening appearance not letting her look away for long. It definitely screamed Barry’s craftsmanship, lovingly stitched together, and the leather felt smooth and soft underneath her fingertips...but still...

“Uh...what’s it for?”

“It’s called a ‘Bear Claw’. Let me show ya.” He took the glove from her and fit it to his hand, flexing his fingers; it somehow looked even more intimidating, like something Freddy Krueger would wear. The claws sparkled in the light of the nearby lamp, but Barry smiled disarmingly, a clear juxtaposition to the seeming cruelty of the apparel. “You trust your Bear?”

That wasn't even a question. “Of course.”

He reached out and took her arm, palm facing up. Very gently, he ran the claws up and down the length of her forearm, watching with pride and satisfaction as goosebumps broke out wherever he trailed his hand.

Casey gaped. It felt incredible, like the world’s best back scratcher. “This is brilliant.”

He feigned modesty, although the praise made him glow. “I didn’t come up with the idea, but I’m glad ya enjoy it. No harm having a new toy to play with, is there?"

Taking it from him, she tried for herself, now fascinated with the strange tool. "What's the occasion?"

"I didn't know there needed to be an occasion to have fun with our girl," he purred, and behind his alluring demeanor she could see Dennis, turning their eyes sharp and hard with lust. "I mean, if ya still think ya can handle us both at once.” 

Collapsing dramatically back onto the pillows, Casey wiggled her eyebrows. "Oh please, we all know this is going to end with the two of you knocked out for the rest of the night while I enjoy some peace and quiet."

Barry laughed, enjoying her confidence. "Ya think so, huh? Wanna make a bet?"

"What kind of bet?"

Kneeling besides the bed, Dennis took over, reaching for the restraints kept underneath while not taking his eyes off of her. "Barry and I talked it over, and we've got some new games for you."

As their relationship had progressed over time, Casey found she really enjoyed Dennis's version of "games", and having another playmate on top of it was an exciting prospect. "I like games."

"I know. Gonna make things really interesting this time though. If we win, we're going to Los Angeles for vacation. If you win, Tennessee it is."

Casey’s eyes widened. They had been debating where to spend the next summer for weeks now. Barry wanted desperately to visit LA, but it seemed too much like Philadelphia for Casey’s tastes, Hollywood or no. Once you’ve seen one massive city packed full of dirt and distractions and crime, you’ve seen them all. A romantic cabin with a loft in the Smokey Mountains was more her speed. Also...

"You don't want to go to California, Dennis, I know that for a fact. What's the catch?"

He towered over her, his irises catching hers with cool certainty. "No catch. You're right, I don't want to go. What I _do_ want is to have some fun tonight, and I want to win. Which I will." The words weren't said unkindly, just confidently. The both of them were headstrong and willful, but despite his bravado, Casey knew that she had the pair of men wrapped around her fingers and she would be the victor. Easy.

She waved his prediction away with a flick of her hand. "So how exactly do I win? Or lose...theoretically?"

"Simple. We tell you not to do something, and you listen. If you moan, you’re in trouble. If you laugh, you’re in trouble. If you come without our permission...”

Casey broke into a smile she didn't bother to hide. “What could you two teddy bears do to me?”

Dennis feigned distress, rubbing his scalp in mock agitation. “I don’t think we should even say it out loud. It would be…terrible.”

“I shudder to think.” Barry’s voice was light and airy, the threats clearly being made with her own pleasure in mind. He leaned over to whisper a word in her ear, the word that would end the games if she so chose. For better or for worse, she had no intention of doing so. "Strip out of your dress, sweetheart. Pretty as it is, having clothes on is cheating." 

She did as he asked, wondering how clothing could constitute as "cheating". When finished, she watched him pull his own shirt off, and her breathing began to quicken. Wide shoulders tapered down to a lean waist, his abdominals contracting with the effort. Barry moved as though eyes were on him constantly, dramatic and tailored to whatever was required of him at the time. Now he played the Incubus, and what a sight he was, languidly stretching the length of his body, showing off every muscle.

Noticing her staring, Barry playfully flexed a bicep before winking. "Better get a good look while you can."

"What? Why?"

Reaching into the bedside table, he produced another box she was completely unaware was even in there. This one was nondescript, not nearly as fancy as her gift, but it intrigued her nonetheless. Craning her head, she tried to see what was inside, but he tisked, playfully tapping her nose. “No ruining the surprise, babygirl!” Instead, he opened it and pulled out a black blindfold with foam padding around the edges. “In fact, I don’t think we’ll have you looking at all.”

She hesitated briefly. She loved these men with all her heart, but it was enough of a stretch to allow them to tie her down. She didn’t know if she could handle her sense of sight taken away as well.

Sensing her concern, Barry quickly kissed her and then rested his forehead against hers. “We’re not gonna do anything you’re not comfortable with, ok? Not being able to see is gonna make your other senses kick into high gear." He smiled, giving her stomach a quick tickle. “But if it makes ya uneasy, we’ll forget all about it.”

Casey’s insides clenched up at the thought of being at the mercy of her boys, unable to move or see, subject to their whims. Lust quickly overrode fear and she nodded her head vehemently in agreement.

“That's our girl.” He gently fit the mask around her eyes, making sure she was comfortable. “We wanna make you feel so amazing you won’t be able to think of anything else all night. If it gets to be too much, just say the word."

Sightless, she grabbed and squeezed his hand, laughing a little. "It's ok Bear, I do this with Dennis all the time. I'm fine."

At the mention of his name, Dennis dipped down to claim Casey’s lips with his own, nearly choking her as he fully explored every inch of her mouth. In turn, her hands were greedy to make up for her loss of vision, searching out every curve and swell of his body as they enveloped her, becoming the entirety of her world. 

Eventually, he reluctantly pulled away and reached for her wrists, pulling her up off the bed. “You do such a good job of disciplining me, I feel I would be remiss to not return the favor.” He tenderly brushed a piece of hair from her forehead, already slick with sweat, before moving down to her throat and massaging the sides. "Are you ready?"

"Bring it on."

Barry laughed, amused at the intensity quickly ramping up in the room. "Will the both of ya relax? Are we playing for money and no one told me? Let's do this."

"Barry's right," Dennis growled. "No more stalling." With more gentleness than his voice conveyed, he led her to the back of the room. “Put your palms against the wall.”

“Gonna tell me to spread ‘em next?” she asked over her shoulder and Dennis lightly swatted her ass.

“Just because Barry is here doesn’t mean he’ll save you from me, so you better watch it.” He adjusted her arms so that they were stretched far above her, to the point of nearly needing to stand on her tiptoes.

She wasn't impressed. “All this talk and no action. I’m falling asleep.”

“Yeah? That’s fine. Just make sure you don’t. Drop. These. Coins.” As he spoke every word, he fit a quarter under each of Casey’s fingers so they were now pinning them to the wall. “You’re to stay like this for ten minutes. If you drop them all, you lose, and then you’ll be so very, very sorry.” He leaned close to her, breath warm on her ear. “And you _will_ lose, Casey.”

Casey squirmed a bit in place. She was comfortable for the moment, but Dennis had her arms positioned rather awkwardly. Ten minutes would be tough, but doable. 

“Soo…you going to stand there and watch me or are we-SHIT!”

Without warning, something freezing and wet slid down her back and she shuddered, immediately dropping a few quarters in the process. She could practically feel Dennis’s smirk burning into her as she redoubled her hold on the remaining coins and tried to stop shivering. “You didn’t say we were playing a game of ‘Distraction’!”

“I’m just helping you learn some self-control. You should have known I wasn’t going to make this easy.”

The ice cube returned, this time Dennis snaking a hand to her front and working his way between her breasts, down her waist, and around to her lower back; it took everything in her not to flinch. The ice apparently had been sitting out for some time, and as it started to melt and trickle down her body, he began licking it up slowly, the heat of his mouth an erotic contrast to the numbness all over her skin. He traced her ribs before trailing down to her hip bone, tongue following close behind, and she was concerned he could hear the nervous scurry of her heartbeat from his close proximity.

Suddenly he pulled her flush to his chest, grinding his erection into her, and her fingers slid but somehow still managed to maintain a tenuous grasp on the coins. One of Dennis's hands wrapped around her waist to keep her still. The other ran up and down the front of her body, rubbing the remnants of the ice into her skin, over her fluttering stomach, her breasts, her collarbone, and finally up to her throat. He massaged it fiercely, letting her experience the full range of his desire and need before moving back down.

His hand traveling south was her undoing, and as he brushed against her clit, her hips buckled. A second touch was all it took for her body to veto her mind's orders, and she pushed back from the wall and onto him, the quarters pinging against the hardwood floor one by one. A solitary stubborn coin refused to give up on Casey's behalf, spinning around and around on its side until gravity finally took it down for good.

“Oof, that was the clatter of some jawns if I ever heard 'em," Barry piped up, backing away to take a look. The floorboard shifted again and Casey could imagine him standing with an expression of shock, hand over his heart as though scandalized. “What terrible fate will befall our Casey now?”

Dennis chuckled, and she could feel it travel all the way to her toes. "We teach her how to listen to simple instructions. For shame, Casey." There was no ire in his voice, just amusement. She could practically hear a _told you so_ as he placed a hand on her shoulder and lead her back over to the bed. There was a slight clinking sound as he readied the restraints, and she dutifully held out her hands, heat building up in her lower body as she wondered what her “punishment” was going to be. 

She didn't have to wait long. The ice was back, although much more bearable now that she wasn't responsible for babysitting any coins. For a while Dennis focused on her upper body while avoiding the nipples, and she cursed her inability to see where he would strike next. The cube gradually melted away to nothing and was quickly replaced, Dennis seemingly intent on turning her body into one giant goosebump.

When the cold finally met her nipples, it only took a few seconds for a stinging ache to start to blossom. He withdrew, then applied it again and again until she was well and truly numb. A sudden flick of his fingers sent shock waves into her body, pinpricks of sensation traveling through chilled nerves, and she shivered from more than the ice. The cubes were swiftly exchanged for his mouth, the sudden warmth pleasing beyond all reason. Her breasts began to regain feeling slowly, the pleasure building in intensity as they once again became acclimated to the sense of him and his touch, standing rigidly at attention. Soon enough her feet were were burrowing into the blankets with pleasure, knowing he would not be letting up until her insides were as hot as her skin was cold.

When he moved down she could hardly wait, and the ice water he dripped down onto her clit was barely a nuisance, it only prolonged that which she never wanted to end. Despite the freezing water and the edging, delicious pressure was fast building in her lower body, and as her clit regained feeling, the flick of his tongue became ten times more intense. She knew from their previous bedroom games what his end goal was-tease her to insanity while denying any release.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he hit a spot and her back arched, hips pushing back against hands that barely allowed her any movement. “Don’t you dare come,” he ordered, repeating the motion that drove her crazy. “If you do, Barry and I are gonna leave you tied up here to think about what you’ve done.”

Now THAT was mean, and previous experience had taught her that he would go through with it. She began mentally running through the items on their grocery list, anything to get her mind away from what was going on below. When he started tongue fucking her, she lost all train of thought. "Dennis, please...I can't..."

He paused for a moment, dragging himself up her body to grab at the roots of her hair. "You didn't listen, and there are consequences for that." He lifted her head slightly. "Now what do you say to me?"

She swallowed, the top of her scalp stinging against his knuckles. "Thank you for correcting me, you're very generous." 

"And?"

"Please give me more."

Not needing to be asked twice, he went down on her again, and despite all her writhing and cursing, Casey managed to hold off until Dennis was satisfied she had reached her limit and then some. “Good girl,” he chuckled, pride clear in his voice. “That showed incredible self-control." A quick kiss demonstrated how pleased he was, and he sucked on her bottom lip gently as she squirmed in her bonds, wishing to touch him in turn.

When they broke apart, she heard Barry exhale over her, breath cresting over her skin, damp with sweat and water. "Need a break, doll?" A gentle hand supported her head as he lifted a water bottle to her lips, and she drank greedily, catching her bearings.

"What I _need_ is for you to get me off," she panted when finished, wondering if Barry might be more inclined to show mercy.

He clicked his tongue. "Nuh uh, ya lost that one sweetheart, we play for high stakes around here! Next round maybe, yeah?" She grumbled and felt him tweak her nose. "Here, this will make ya feel better."

There was a second or two of near silence, the only noise in the room their shared breathing and Casey's heart thrumming in her ears. Then, just the barest scraping sound, steel on wood as Barry wordlessly showed off his claws, scratching gently at the bedside dresser. Instinctively she sucked in her stomach in as the metal met her flesh, soft as he was. He began touching her with long, sensuous strokes, alternating between soft fingertips and the claws. Like the ice, it caused chills, but was also strangely soothing. For better or worse, the fire in her started to wane as he quieted her nerves, mood fast turning languid. The leather felt pleasant against her skin, the different textures demanding and holding her attention, steel to fabric, impenetrable to soft. When he moved on to scratching her stomach as one might a pet, she decided that after she won their little game, she would have him massage her scalp as well. What a devilish, amazing tool.

After a few minutes of this, Barry shifted, brushing her hair gently. “Ready to go again?”

Casey only nodded, still feeling sleepy. 

“Aight, this is simple. I’ve got these cute bells I’m gonna hang from your toes, and an even cuter little feather right here.” He rang the bells before running the feather quickly across her nose, amused as she scrunched up her face. “I’m gonna stroke you all over, nice and soft, but ya gotta keep still. I hear those bells ring? Ya lose. Again.”

"I'm less afraid of you than I am of Dennis," she insisted, sounding much more confident than she felt.

"Oh yeah?" One bell was tied around each middle toe, and she tried not to let on how sensitive she was, despite him being well aware. "Well, we know how that turned out."

Before she could manage a retort, the stiff tendrils of the feather slowly caressed her right breast and she practically jumped out of her skin. Although she couldn’t see, she could just imagine Barry leaning over her with a small, smug smile, proud of himself. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of whimpering and lightly chewed the inside of her cheeks to distract herself from the tickling. They were _not_ winning this one.

The feather moved up to her nipples and he brushed gently, a shock of pleasure flooding her body with each stroke, shooting right down to between her legs. He knew from past experience where she responded to being touched and took full advantage. Normally it would be a turn on by itself, but her poor body was already denied one orgasm, and she found herself reacting faster than usual. Once he began placing soft kisses under her jaw while flicking both nipples simultaneously with the feather, she had to strain to think of something, _anything_ , to stop the orgasm from building. It would certainly force her to move, and she had little intention of losing twice in a row.

Out of nowhere the feather found its way to her left foot and she nearly jerked, remembering at the last second to keep still. "Cheater!"

Barry laughed. "I didn't say I was sticking to one place."

Stoicism remained possible for approximately thirty seconds before she couldn't take it anymore; whatever the penalty was couldn't be worse than this. Her toes curled, a wave of the white flag, chiming the bells and signaling another loss.

"Defeated so soon?" Barry teased, and she could feel the feather land softly onto her stomach, it's job finished.

"You couldn't possibly expect me to endure that forever."

"Maybe, but I know ya sweetheart and you're looking a little...flushed."

Panting heavily, Casey couldn't reply, not even as he spread her legs open wider. "Look at how your body is responding to us." His voice was husky, clearly affected by what he saw while running a finger over her. "I'd love to help ya out, but unfortunately you lost, and Dennis says that means ya gotta be disciplined. Fortunately for you, I'm a lot nicer than he is." He stuck his finger in his mouth, making a show of enjoying the evidence of her arousal despite the fact she couldn't see him. "I'm gonna lick you up and down now, feel free to cum if ya can."

Situating himself for easy access between her legs, he began doing things with his mouth that usually took her over the edge immediately. Relief flooded her body alongside bliss, she was finally allowed to get off! Only in her throes of pleasure, she didn't notice his hands reaching for her hip bones until it was too late, and nearly wrenched herself from her restraints when he began squeezing. 

"Barry, what the fuck?!"

"I said I was nicer than Dennis, not that ya were getting off easy."

"I'm not..." she struggled to talk through her laughter. "I'm not getting off at all!"

Barry ignored her, his fingers torturing her stomach while his tongue tortured her pussy. Those fucking bells clanged in discordant melody, taunting, a reminder of just how quickly she succumbed to the feather. He briefly looked up from his work, though the tickling continued. "What's going on? Weren't ya just begging to cum?"

If he was expecting a reply, he wasn't getting one, she was too busy losing her mind.

"Casey, what did Dennis tell ya about listening?" he warned, making sure to focus on the spots that made her strain against her bondage the hardest. He did his best to sound rough and disaffected, but his words pitched at the end like he was holding back his own laughter. "I'm not gonna stop until you cum."

"Oh god, you're going to kill me!" She gasped, eyes watering from hysterics.

"You won't die," Dennis interjected. "You're going to lay there and take it until you decide to listen." The safe word had still not been utilized. Until it was, all her begging and pleading was for naught, and Barry worked her over until her entire body was red from laughter.

After a few minutes he finally relented, giving her a chance to catch her breath and recover; having her pass out was not the goal.

"And that's two for two, baby girl." He pressed the water bottle to her lips again, little giggles still escaping her.

Finished, she fell back down on the pillows with a groan, the slight give her restraints offered going slack. "Ok...ok...you guys win. Just give me a break."

The men remained silent, waiting to see if she would give the word, or if she was just relying on their good graces.

"Give you a break?" Dennis finally repeated, as if he didn't know what she was referring to.

"Make me come...please...fuckin...please." 

"How exactly? Do you want us inside of you?" He plunged two fingers into her, no more build up, rubbing in the way he knew she loved. "What if I told you that you weren't allowed to anymore? Maybe we'll keep going all night, and if we're feeling generous, all day tomorrow."

She whimpered, not sure how something could sound so terrible and so amazing all at once. Her body clearly felt the same way as it spasmed at Dennis's touch, no subtlety there. It was betraying all of her secrets.

"Casey, you are incorrigible," Dennis growled, drawing out pieces of pleasure with every thrust. "You have deliberately disobeyed every instruction we've given you. Barry graciously permitted you to orgasm, and you refused. Now I forbid it, and you're falling apart around my fingers?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think she enjoys her punishments and wants some more. You getting off to this, baby girl?" A thumb found her clit, and she didn't care about winning anymore, couldn't care. "Better be honest with us or we might have to put ya through round three."

The idea was utterly, deliciously unbearable and that finally sent her over the edge, nearly feral with lust. She needed them inside her _immediately_ before she lost her goddamn mind. "If either of you has ever loved me even a little bit, you'll fuck the shit out of me right _now_."

Dennis unhooked her wrists as fast as humanely possible and Casey didn't even take the time to stretch her limbs out, just clawed at his back like a madwoman as Barry yanked their pants down and thrust into her. She didn't know what she was grasping for, body already tired and overwhelmed from her ordeal. Still, inexplicably there was a desire to be invaded, infiltrated by her lovers until she was sure they would never again be separate, part of her very cells for eternity. Sensing her insatiability, they tried to keep up, Barry wrapping her legs around their waist as Dennis fucked harder, driving her into the mattress with abandon. Still blindfolded, her senses were barraged with information: sweat dripping onto her lips, a nipple being pinched, a low groan in her right ear. Their mouth claimed her, taking and taking until her lips were flushed and swollen.

When she orgasmed again, she wasn't sure whose touch she succumbed to, or which part of her body gave in first, as every nerve was on fire. All that mattered was release and the brief few seconds of conscious obliteration that followed. Everything in her was tingling, from her lips to her nose to her feet, singing with relief. This was what they had been building up to all night, and it was exquisite. Behind her mask, white bursts of light were popping in and out out of the blackness and she wondered if she was so spent that hypnagogic hallucinations were setting in.

She didn't expect the feeling of large hands rubbing her body down, soothing the twitching of her skin, as if telling her body it could finally relax. It was the ticket back to reality that she needed, and melting into the mattress she accepted the gentle massage, part of her still debating if she was upset she lost out on her trip.

Sighing, she reached up to wrap her arms around her lovers' neck, hugging them to her chest tightly. "That was...intense...fun. Not particularly fair, though. It _was_ two versus one."

The mask was pulled away and Dennis looked slightly exasperated, like she had just outed a secret. “Of course it wasn’t fair. If you were able to do as we asked, that would have cut playtime short real fast.”

“We’ll still go to ‘Redneck Mountain’, or wherever it is ya wanted,” Barry chimed in with a shrug, and it took Casey a second to realize the entire game had just been a ruse. 

Dennis leaned back down, kissing the tip of her nose. “You knew you were getting your way the entire time, didn’t you?”

"Well...." It was actually embarrassing. She _didn’t_ know, but should have, couldn’t think back to a time when these two hadn’t gone to any length to make her happy. At first, she assumed that maybe guilt played a part, and perhaps it did. However, love like this was not something that could survive and grow in darkness. Whatever the reason for its beginning, it was nourished by true affection and hope now. "Real talk Dennis, you're just willing to go because you look good in flannel."

"That's what we'll let the others think. Nobody else needs to know that I can't say 'no' to you." Taking her hand, he kissed her open palm. "You're the light of my life, Casey."

She felt a lump rise in her throat, in awe over the fact she owned this incredible man's heart.

Before she could get too weepy, Barry donned the bear claw again, tapping her nose. "You're ok I guess. Just don't let it go to your head." She sputtered protests and pinched a nipple as he laughed, pushing her back down and tracing lazy circles over her stomach, mollifying. "Oh come on, I love ya too, don't hurt me!"

"Rub my head with that thing and we'll call it even."

Barry acquiesced, grinning wide as she leaned into his hand. "I can handle flannel. I swear to god though, Luke is not wearing his stupid ten gallon hat. I will throw us off that mountain before it happens. I will set the hat on fire. I'll set us on fire."

"Amen," Dennis agreed.

Rolling her eyes, Casey grabbed Barry's wrist. "Well this vacation is starting to sound really dangerous. There's something I want to do first before we go, then. Just in case we don't make it back." 

“Anything baby doll, just ask.”

She took his face in her hands, kissing his nose tenderly before she pulled him down to whisper in his ear. “What I really want is…payback.”

Barry balked before Dennis laughed out loud, the sound ringing throughout the house. “Well Barry, I think this will be another eye opening experience for you. Good luck.” Another quick kiss and Dennis relinquished his hold on the light, because now it was every man for himself.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Barry tried to protest further, but Casey had already snapped one of the cuffs onto his wrists, and he saw little choice but to succumb to his fate. Rolling over onto his back so she could straddle his stomach, he offered his most charming smile. “Now just remember, I was way nicer to ya than Dennis was.”

Casey tapped her chin before reaching down and tracing a line from his cheek to his chest, already heaving in anticipation. “Dennis isn’t here anymore. Looks like it's just you and me, _doll_.”

Well, he was in trouble. But with the way Casey’s face lit up...worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got an idea kicking around for round two (m/m anyone? it will make sense when you read it, promise!), but it will be a while, eager to get some work done on my other stories. I swear cabin fever is making it harder to get anything productive done.
> 
> Hope everyone is remaining safe and well!


	7. Trigger Points (Casey x Barry/Casey x Dennis)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey feels terrible about herself. Barry tries to comfort her, Dennis wants to fix it the same way he fixes everything: with his hands
> 
> Pure, shameless, messy Dennis porn with Bear fluff mixed in cause I write to please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhh my god, I've been trying to get something posted since the beginning of the month! Writer's block is some real shit and I've been sitting on two halves of different stories for a while. I was working on Kevin's anniversary chapter and it kept splitting off in different directions (no pun intended), so I decided to disengage with it and work on this which took way longer than I would have liked. 
> 
> ANYWAY, I really should be working on other alter stories just for variety, but lets not pretend we don't know who the fandom favorites are.

All things considered, it was a good day to have a meltdown. It was dreary and rainy, the kind of rainy where instead of staying in with a book or movie (the smart move), Casey had to trudge about outside to run errands. Somehow she managed to find and step in every puddle along the way, and at some point the rain became torrential, rendering her umbrella useless. It was also unusually muggy, her clothes clinging to her skin from sweat just as much as from the water.

She finally found respite underneath a bus shelter, forgoing her initial plans to just walk back home. Cranky and miserable, she peeled the top layer of her outfit off to try and regain some semblance of comfort. Already soaked to the bone, there was no point in keeping multiple shirts on when it just felt gross. For some reason she began wringing the shirt out as she waited for the bus, most likely just expending nervous energy. Barry would have a heart attack if he saw her torturing the fabric in such a manner, but Barry wasn't there, was he?

Only belatedly did Casey realize she wasn't alone, at some point a loudmouth on his phone had taken refuge from the weather underneath the same shelter. Everything about him was grating, from his need to practically scream as he spoke to the way he took up too much room on the bench. It was next to impossible to not overhear his half of the conversation.

"Yeah man, she was _aching_ for it all night! Got my dick wet and gave her a ride, should have seen that ass, shit was thicc!"

Casey groaned, too tired to even feign politeness, but if the man heard her, he didn't seem to care.

"Man, I'm telling you, bitch was fine. She did have these scars on her stomach, looked like little worms, was from a horseback riding accident she said. Shit was nasty bro, but I just hit it from behind." 

Time seemed to freeze for Casey. She knew, she _knew_ he wasn't talking about her, it was just a matter of wrong place, wrong time. Still, a deluge of self-loathing cropped up out of nowhere, almost knocking her over with the intensity. She immediately stood up and walked away, throwing her soaking wet shirt over her exposed shoulders. She would endure the rain and walk the rest of the way home. _The broken are the more evolved, the broken are the more evolved_ she recited, over and over, but despite it all, the tears threatened to spill over anyway. At least in the rain, no one would know.

* * *

Barry was at the kitchen table eating when Casey walked in. He looked up from his Kindle as she passed through the foyer, beaming his usual smile, the one that always made her stomach flip.

"Heya doll, how was...oh." His face fell when he saw how distraught she seemed, but wasted no time in drumming up another smile, this one somehow even warmer. "Oh man, you're soaked! Sit down, let me get ya some dry clothes, aight? I'll be right back."

Before Casey could protest, he was up the stairs in a flash, and thankfully didn't spend _too_ much time waffling on what outfit she should wear next. He came back down the stairs with a few dry towels and her clothes, taking the steps two at a time. Handing her one of the towels, he helped her strip out of her wet camisole as she wrapped her hair up. Before she slipped into her shirt, she motioned to a particularly large scar on her right shoulder. "Does this look infected to you?"

Barry seemed surprised. He bent down for a closer look, biting his lower lip in concentration. "I don't think scars get infected, doll. Why are ya asking?"

"I think it looks bigger. More obvious, maybe."

"You're seeing things then." He studied her face, tilting her chin so she was looking at him. "You look miserable, and I know it isn't on account of getting a little rain on ya. What's wrong?"

Feeling silly, Casey didn't respond immediately, instead pawing at her skin again. Frowning, Barry pulled her hand away and kissed its palm before waiting for her to fess up; Casey knew she wasn't getting away without giving him an answer. "Some guy was talking rather loudly about how his date's scars turned him off, and I was having a bad afternoon. I guess it hit a little too close to home."

Barry's frowned deepened. "How about I find this guy and kick his ass?"

Well _that_ was a new one. Barry was usually as violent as his affability allowed, which was to say not much at all.

"I'd like to see that." She smiled to herself as he bristled.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh please. You'd probably end up liking his shoes or something, become best friends in minutes."

His jaw dropped open. "Lies and slander! I can already tell this guy wears boat shoes and pops his collars."

Despite herself, Casey giggled, Barry's barely concealed displeasure a thing of beauty. The tension in his shoulders dissipated and he gave up all pretense of violence. He pulled her in for a hug, nosing her cheek before planting a string of kisses across her jawline. Barry had two modes of comfort, one being overly affectionate and touchy to the point of suffocation, which Casey just could NOT deal with at the moment. 

She kissed him in turn and then pulled away, shivering slightly. The air conditioning was on to combat the mugginess outside and she was beginning to grow chilly despite the dry clothes. The thoughts running cycles through her head still made her feel like shit, but if Barry could give her a little space, she didn't mind the company.

Predictably, he read her mind, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. "Sit down, I'm gonna make us some tea and then we'll talk."

Casey obeyed, and Barry began rummaging through the cabinets, mumbling to himself about Patricia hiding the tea bags on purpose. Casey often said that Kevin could be on his deathbed and those two would be at each other's throats, but her admonishments only served to make Barry prickly, so she usually refrained from commenting. Instead her hand migrated back to her scars, this time on her stomach, and could swear she felt them swell underneath her fingers as they waited for the kettle to whistle.

Barry caught her. "If ya don't stop doing that, I'm gonna tie oven mitts on your hands. Don't think I won't."

Casey scowled but decided not to risk it, he would most definitely make good on his word. Instead, she watched him hum to himself as he cleaned her favorite mug sporting a Jurassic Park raptor, a gift from Luke. The pair often argued about which was the better dinosaur-the Velociraptor or the Tyrannosaurus. Both were classics, but Luke always lived by "bigger is better". Hedwig was brought in as a tiebreaker, but insisted that the Indominus rex could destroy the both of them ("blow them the fuck out!" were the exact words used). Casey told him to stop being contrarian and he dismissed her as "old", so Luke had bought Casey the mug in a gesture of "old person solidarity", making her laugh-Because nothing screamed "elderly" like a lizard that disemboweled its victims ("more like a bird, my dear," she could hear Orwell interject).

Finally Barry walked over with a cup of peppermint tea, one she gratefully accepted as it was something else to keep her hands busy. Her fingers wrapped around the mug and warmth immediately seeped into her skin, a little sigh escaping her lips. Better. Now maybe she could talk. She took a few small sips, appreciating Patricia's decadent taste in beverages.

Looking up, she watched Barry occupy himself by blowing steam off of his own drink, clearly trying to be patient and wait on her. This was his second mode of comfort: the long suffering agony aunt, ready with a listening ear and good advice. He noticed her staring and shot her a warm smile, encouraging. Casey would indulge him.

“Honestly I don't know what my problem is today. I haven’t thought of my scars much, not since the Beast helped me realize that suffering didn’t make me a lesser person.”

Barry’s face twisted like his tea had gone bad. “You know I’m not a fan of that guy, even when he’s playing Dr. Phil. It's a warped way to view the world.” 

“So you think he's wrong?”

“Nah babydoll, I just don’t think that the Horde’s weirdo philosophies should serve as any kind of frame of reference." He shrugged, searching for the right words so as not to offend. "Wouldn’t it be healthier to acknowledge that you’d be the same beautiful, sweet woman you are with or without scars?”

“That’s just it, they aren’t beautiful." She looked down at her lap, color rising on her cheeks. "At least sometimes I can make myself believe they show character, but apparently my boyfriend doesn’t agree.”

“Come on babe, ya know that’s not what I meant.” He stood up and reached for her, nuzzling the crook of her neck as he slid his hands up under her arms. She knew he meant to tickle her into a better mood, but she wiggled from his grasp, a warning in her expression.

"Not feeling up for it, Bear."

He removed his hands and held them up in deference, falling back to his seat. "Ok...ok...Just tell me ya know that you're an amazingly strong person. To go through what you did and come out of it as kind as you are...that's incredible."

"So would you say that my suffering has made me...more 'evolved', perhaps?"

Barry chuckled; he walked right into that one. "Ok, sure. I just meant that ascribing any sort of strong feelings to your body, good or bad, is putting a lot of unnecessary pressure on yourself."

"Don't you put a lot of value on my looks?"

Before Barry could respond, she stood up and walked out of the kitchen, annoyed with herself for being petty, too tired to snap out of it. _Get it together, woman. All this because of some dudebro on the street?_

Unsurprisingly, Barry was right on her heels, following her into their living room. She moved to the back door and noticed the sun was now peaking out from behind some clouds; at least the rain had stopped. Turning around, she watched Barry sink onto the sofa, eyebrow cocked but otherwise expressionless. Something traitorous inside her felt pulled to his arms, and when he patted the cushion next to him, her legs moved of their own accord before she had any say.

“I'm sorry, that was a low blow. I just wish you would be honest. I mean, look at me!”

“Keep your apologies, I'm more offended that you think I'm lying. When have I ever lied to ya, baby girl?" 

Casey had no answer because it was true: in the entirety of the time she had known him, she couldn't think of one moment where he had mislead her. 

"And for the record, I _am_ looking at ya, and I see my best friend. My soul mate.” His cool fingertips brushed against her skin even as she flinched. Shrugging out of his blazer, he pulled down on his collar to reveal his own set of scars crisscrossing his sternum, a now familiar sight to Casey. “We’re the same, remember? If you’re hideous, what does that make me?” Though his face remained passive, she could see his throat constrict, almost looking…hurt. 

“You’re being awfully reductive."

The pained expression on his face grew deeper. Seeing Barry hurt was like watching a puppy cry, but he reached out to stroke her cheek, still offering comfort. “Am I? I think it’s only logical to assume that some part of ya must feel the same way about us.”

“It’s not the same with men!" Casey was exasperated, Barry would never understand, could never understand. It wasn't his fault though. "Scars are, I don’t know, sexy and mysterious on a guy! I just look…gross.”

"You want an honest opinion then?” He held out his arms, beckoning her. The light from the windows cascaded across the room and the weight of his shoulders, his slight smirk, and the prominence of his cheekbones was thrown into sharp definition; suddenly the idea of being touched wasn't so smothering anymore.

She remained silent but leaned into him, letting him caress her cheek and neck. His hands were heavy and warm, trailing down her face before slipping underneath her shirt. He found scars from both self-inflicted wounds and those from Uncle John, rubbing them gently with his thumbs. “I couldn't imagine ya any other way, every part of you is perfect."

Even his words made her feel inadequate. "No. I-"

“No?" A sly glint worked its way into his eyes. "You _are_ pretty covered up, maybe I’m not looking in the right places. Here.” Hooking his fingers underneath the band of her leggings, he gently worked her pants down, throwing them off to the side somewhere. Casey thought maybe he should have folded them for Dennis's sake, and then thought nothing at all as his hands slid between her thighs. He pried them apart, not hesitating to begin trailing kisses up and down either side, making a show of worshiping her body. “Hmmm. Nope. Still absolute perfection.” 

Casey gasped, the warm comfort of his mouth coaxing her annoyance into something much softer. Despite the thick bands of scar tissue decorating her upper legs, she knew there was only pure honesty in his words and she wasn’t sure if that made her want to scream at him for his self-induced blindness, or break down into tears. He nuzzled close to the apex of her right leg, flicking his tongue out suggestively, his mouth so close to bringing pleasure but not close enough. She could feel his breath through the sheer fabric of her underwear, ghosting against her clit, making her shudder.

"Bear..."

When he looked up from his spot by her lap, his pupils dilated...or perhaps it was just shadow. He leaned up for a kiss, his lips gently grazing against her own as she curled her fingers through his hair, thick enough to bring most women to shame. And here he was, telling her how amazing she was supposed to be, like she could look at him in comparison and believe that for a second. 

When he pulled away again, she knew for sure that she wasn’t imagining it; the sympathy in Barry’s eyes was becoming…something else, sharp and electric, precarious. He straightened up and crossed his arms, posture that screamed he would brook no arguments.

Dennis.

Briefly he took in her bare legs, licking his lips in an almost Pavlovian response, and then met her eyes again. “What’s this Barry is telling me about you feeling disgusted with yourself?”

His expression remained cool and even, aside from that undecipherable shadow in his eyes. His gaze trailed down to his shirt's sleeves, replete with thumb holes. Barry preferred them so as to have an easier time combining layers, but Dennis found them superfluous. He adjusted the ends so that they perfectly encircled his thumbs, and then looked back up at Casey, clearly waiting for an answer. She huffed.

"Barry has a big mouth."

"You do too, apparently."

An unspoken argument passed between them in the span of a few seconds, then he grabbed her wrists. With almost laughable ease he pinned her down against the couch cushions, his weight heavy on top of her. “If you were anyone else saying these things about you, I’d have to kick your ass.”

The room fell silent a moment, the only sounds Dennis's harsh exhalations. It was quite the performance, but ultimately that's all it was. What was he going to do, headlock her until she felt better? Placing a socked foot to his chest, Casey pushed him away, unimpressed. “Barry already offered to beat someone up, I'm good.”

He shifted back over her, tightening his grip. "Then stop being so hard on yourself."

"That's funny, coming from you."

Instead of a retort, Dennis just exhaled softly, his brows relaxing from their constant furrow. Releasing her, he sat up and fished for his glasses in a back pocket, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "Well you _are_ like me, and in a lot of ways. One being that you definitely think too much. There are better uses of your time and energy."

Watching his eyes dart about the rather untidy room as he spoke, Casey smirked. "Like what, organizing the living room?"

Dennis checked his lenses for smudges and then looked back at her thoughtfully, tongue trailing over his lower lip. Much to her surprise, he stood up and walked out of the room, only to come back a minute later with an index bottle and some clean rags.

Casey rolled her eyes. "I was kidding." 

"You know better than to kid with me. Here," he handed the bottle to her. "You start wiping down the table, I'll put Hedwig's toys away."

Bewildered and amused, Casey acquiesced, waiting for Dennis to remove various Justice League members from the table before setting to work. She sprayed some of the bottle experimentally and wrinkled her nose, already regretting it. "Ugh, what's in this? Where's the bleach?"

Dennis looked up at her over his glasses, bent over Hedwig's toy chest. "It's vinegar and water. For the wood."

"It smells like Easter in here," she complained, but when Dennis just shook his head, she shrugged and kept at it. Despite her frustrations (and the smell) she did have to admit there was something soothing about the entire process, the ability to quiet one's brain while the body kept on moving, almost on autopilot.

Occasionally she looked up at Dennis and at one point noticed him grabbing her pants from the ground and folding them neatly before placing them on a nearby shelf. The fact that he didn't offer them back to her did not escape her notice. Of course the man was a fucking pervert, so it wasn't surprising he'd want to watch her work half-naked; she really should have insisted on him returning the favor, even when he finished picking up and sat back onto the sofa, watching her work in silence.

Getting the table clean enough for his tastes was a process, especially with him looking over her shoulder, but eventually Casey felt confident enough declare herself finished.

"Alright, all done. Now we just need to carpet bomb everything with some Febreze and we're good."

"You complain, but you just slaughtered every dust mite in your vicinity."

"At least someone is having a worse day than I am."

Dennis chuckled, pulling out a deodorizer from one of the cabinets and spraying a liberal amount throughout the room. "There, better now?"

Casey took a deep breath, then coughed violently. "Still gross. Now what?"

"Well now I have the appropriate room and space to teach you a lesson."

"What are you-"

He was behind her in an instant, pressing her tightly to his chest. Holding her close, his fingers slipped past her bra and tweaked her nipples with one hand, massaging her throat with the other. It was orgasmic, just enough pressure to sense how powerful those hands were, safe in the knowledge that he would never in a million years hurt her. He began marking her with his kisses, blood blooming under the skin where he sucked, but Casey didn’t care. He could do whatever he wanted so long as he kept making her feel good.

“You did this to yourself,” he hissed as she squirmed in his grasp, not given an inch. “You had to keep pushing my buttons, huh? Keep shit talking yourself?”

His breath was hot on her cheek and she wanted to turn and kiss him, wanted to get away, wanted to downplay how stupidly turned on she felt whenever he got grabby. "You're ridiculous, you know that right?"

"I'm not the one complaining about a few marks on my skin." He pulled her to the floor with him, pinning her against the now freshly cleaned table. In a speed that belied his size, he pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the side, clearly out of patience. "I don't tolerate ignorance," he growled, sticking a thumb into her mouth, enjoying its heat and warmth as she began sucking, his cock swelling against her. "I've never met another woman that makes me feel what you do. I'll _make_ you see what I see."

Before she could respond, he pushed her prone onto the table so he had easy access to her pussy. Hands splayed against her soft skin, Dennis began kneading her ass and inner thighs, taking great care to arouse without touching between her legs. His fingers were firm, nearly certain to leave behind marks as he spread her thighs wider and wider apart, exposing every inch. Much attention was given to her scars, and Casey felt herself grow wet as he massaged, licked, and nipped her up and down.

The pleasure was a welcome distraction, but Casey didn't like being passive; she could play games too. His erection moved flush against her ass and she rubbed against him, taunting, trying to provoke him into losing control. Dennis just laughed, swatting her rear with a sufficiently stinging smack. "I told you that you had to be good."

Twisting in his grip, Casey offered a coquettish smile. "I never signed up for that. "

"Such a smart mouth, as usual." His fingers migrated to her clit, rubbing intensely through her underwear as her thighs began to tremble. “Alright then, princess. Let's see if your body is as stubborn as you are.”

Hungrily he pulled her cheeksters down and rocked back onto his heels, taking the sight in. She was clearly aroused, wet, and her clit was coming out of hiding; he had her right where he wanted.

"Just like I thought, looks like _someone_ wants to play," he rasped, rolling his forefinger over her traitorous clit. His voice was dripping self-satisfaction, and Casey cursed; she clearly wasn't getting the upper hand here. She drummed up the wherewithal to snap back, but the words died on her lips when she felt a forearm wrap around her waist and he beared down on her back, immobilizing her further. It was clear he expected her to start thrashing, and the anticipation of what he would do next was killing her.

Reaching back down with his free hand, he rubbed up and down the entirety of her vulva as though trying to wake up every last nerve, stimulating the internal parts of her clitoris. She desperately wanted to guide his fingers up higher (or lower), anywhere and any way that would make her come, but he refused to allow any movement. Not one piece of her was left untouched, every bit screaming for release. It was blissfully, agonizingly perfect.

After a punishingly long amount of time, she became so wet that he had to retrieve his handkerchief to dry his hand. It gave her enough of a break to catch her bearings, to swallow her pleas for mercy, but when she felt his mouth finally descend on her, the begging came out unbidden. His tongue teased her already tortured clit to complete attention before licking and sucking relentlessly, demanding it give in to his whims. He never edged her like Barry would, never went slow and gentle as Kevin preferred. Dennis was an inferno and he did everything in his power to set Casey aflame alongside himself. Moments of pleasure were layered onto her reality, one after the other, and soon she felt like she would burst.

"Dennis..." she whined, NEEDING to fuck or be fucked, the ache had progressed to her entire lower body and nothing short of his cock would satisfy. "It's your turn to be good." Her voice held a little too much pleading for her liking, but it couldn't be helped.

"Oh? Am I not being good right now?" 

" _Too_ good. I need you." 

A throaty groan escaped him, her confession somehow arousing him to further heights of lust as the pressure on her back let up and he freed himself from his pants. Soon the length of his cock slid up between her lips and he continued to tease her, letting her savor the feel of it-his final attempt at coaxing out just a few more moans and gasps from her pretty little lips.

“Thank you, thank you…” she whimpered. She forgot how they had even gotten to this point and didn't care much what happened afterwards. All that mattered was the feel of him sinking deeply inside of her.

Dennis grunted. “You can thank me by cumming your goddamned brains out.”

Casey gasped as he penetrated her with such force that she fell forward onto the table, grasping for purchase, trying to regain balance so she could rock back onto him, but Dennis was relentless. Grasping her hips, he pulled out and then in again, working himself in deeper. Soon sparks were popping off inside, the tingling and aching unbearable, his dick filling her perfectly. Every bit of color, smell, and sound were on hyper display, from the scent of the sweat appearing around her temples to the exhalations of his panting as he rutted into her. Self loathing had fled and was replaced by animal need, her nails digging into the table so hard it would leave gouge marks. Dennis would just have to deal with it later.

“Do you feel how hard you get me?" He practically snarled the question as he canted his hips, upwardly stroking her inner walls before pulling out again. "You know what you're doing. You know how to get me worked up so I'll fuck you good." Pulling out once more, he nestled himself between her legs but refused to fuck her further, making Casey's desperation all the more frenzied. It was obvious he wanted to keep going as badly as she did, the feeling of his cock throbbing against her was proof enough. She tried to rock backwards, to take him in again, but he held her in place.

“I didn’t...I'm not... _please_ , Dennis.”

“You fucking wrecked me, Casey. I’m a mess and it’s all your fault.” He slammed into her one more time, watching with satisfaction as her back arched to new heights. "I always thought perfection was a pipe dream, and then I met you. You are the flawlessness I've searched for my entire life. You know I'm right!” Withdrawing, he watched her thighs tremble, a quiver running down her entire body. Almost cruelly, he reached around to stroke her swollen clit, feather light, reminding her of the price of her stubbornness. "Say. It."

Casey was at a crossroads: out of her mind with desire, hating the vulnerability his words had caused. Why couldn't he just be a normal boyfriend, make her some grilled cheese and let her stuff her face while she ranted to him?

But no, his intensity was why she fell in love with him in the first place, and nobody else could comfort her like Dennis did. Nobody could love her like he did, because nobody else held themselves to the exacting standards he required of himself. Failure and imperfection were his old friends, too.

Catching him off guard, Casey whirled around and pushed him backwards, his head catching the sofa behind them. "I'm either perfect or I'm a stubborn smartass. Which is it?"

Dennis chuckled, and the sound vibrated through his chest and against her fingertips. Just as quickly as she had pinned him, he shoved the table out of the way and pushed her back on to the ground, only taking a brief moment to kiss her forehead. "Like I said, you're my version of perfect. I like a little spice, so sue me."

Figuring that was as much (or as good) as he was going to get, Dennis was inside her again immediately. Making sure to angle towards her clit as he moved, he rode Casey with a staggering intensity until she came with a shower of expletives and spasms, clenching around him in the most delicious way. He didn't last much longer, and soon enough they were both laying on the carpet, panting and enjoying the increasingly fleeting high.

Realizing that Dennis would deign to remain on the ground only as long as his hormones continued to run amok, Casey cuddled up into his arms, determined to enjoy the brief few moments of tenderness. Dennis held her close.

“You really shouldn’t use bleach on wood.”

“Huh?” She looked up at him, thinking perhaps she had misheard. His brows creased and lips pursed the way they always did when he was lecturing Hedwig.

“You asked why we didn't use bleach. Wood is fibrous, bleach can weaken the structure."

Casey blinked slowly. “Do you think about cleaning right as you come?”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Dennis adjusted his pants and then stood up, looking around the room. Before she could reach for her own clothes, he picked her up to deposit her back onto the sofa. “The table needs rewashing, god knows what sorts of fluids are on there now. Don’t tell Barry about any of this, he’ll take it as a pass to have sex on every surface of the house.”

Casey bit her lower lip, no need to inform him that ship had long since sailed. Situating herself more comfortably on the couch, she beckoned him over. "We're not so filthy that you need to douse everything in cleaner ASAP. Let's relax a little."

With some trepidation, Dennis made his way over, sitting next to her rather gingerly for a man of his size. It astounded Casey that even though they had just finished having sex, the prospect of cuddling still made Dennis antsy. Not that he didn't _want_ to, just that it seemed to trigger some sort of cognitive dissonance about his role in her life-lust was so much easier to understand, but he was learning. To that end, he laid an arm over her shoulders and nudged himself a bit closer so that their thighs were touching.

"So uh, I'm not so great at this 'comfort' thing." He cleared his throat, looking down at her. "I mean, I don't know how Barry usually does it, I assume it involves lots of chit chat and Disney sing-alongs." Casey snickered, her nose scrunching up in the most adorable way, and the tension in Dennis's body dissipated. "Are you...feeling any better?"

Truthfully, she did. The dark clouds that had accosted her had dissipated in his presence, if only because they somehow knew that Dennis was more stubborn than they were. "I've got some reflection I still have to do. But yeah, that was a hell of a distraction. Thank you."

Relocating his arm from her shoulder to her waist, Dennis didn't respond but pulled her in closer, leaving a chaste kiss on her cheek. They stayed like that for a while, just appreciating each other's silent company. 

Eventually, the pressure around her waist lessened as his arm relaxed. The rest of Dennis's body followed suit, and then Barry shook his limbs loose like a dog shaking its fur. "I smell like sex." His nose twitched and he grinned, waggling his brows at her. "You smell like sex. And...vinegar? Huh. I knew Dennis must be into some freaky shit-"

"The vinegar came before the sex, thank you very much."

"A likely story." Stretching out over the cushions, Barry laid down and pulled Casey along with him, cradling her head to his chest, something much more his speed. "You seem to be in a better mood."

It was a quiet observation and Casey almost didn't hear him, the rain outside having started up again and pounding a steady rhythm against their roof. The sound made her drowsy, and she settled into him, counting her blessings. "I am."

A hand migrated under her shirt and Barry found a small patch of scars on her obliques, squeezing her side playfully. "You're gonna have to tell me what Dennis said to ya. Who knew the guy had a way with words?"

Casey grinned, pushing his hand away and nuzzling even closer. The warmth of Barry's body was now mingling with the pattering of the rain, and the idea of ever being unlovable was now laughable. "Maybe someday."

"Well, is he better at it then I am? Making ya feel better, I mean."

Without opening her eyes, Casey reached between their bodies and the backrest and pulled out a pillow that had been caught there, flopping it over Barry's face. "Bear Bear, I love you. Hush."

His arms tightened around her even as he grumbled and tipped his head to free himself of the pillow. "That's it, on our next date I'm _so_ going with boat shoes and a popped collar."

That only earned him a giggle, Casey fully aware that he would never dare. Their breathing became one and within minutes the two were fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely OT, but someone please tell me where this Barry af gif is from because Google is just giving me some shit about X-men slash, please and ty


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